Amber Journey
by Innate Lymphoid Cell
Summary: Eternity doesn't last forever. With his timeless vigil ended, a lone Revenant emerges from his Crypt and scours a vastly different world for any sign of old companions. He soon finds, however, that he is not as alone as he thinks.
1. Chapter 1

**Got stuck a few thousand words into my other story, bought and rushed through Code Vein, and things spiralled out of control from there.**

**Was thinking between writing a Dark Souls or Code Vein fanfic, listened to Requiem from the Code Vein OST (the song on _that _bridge) and somehow came to the conclusion that it sounded a little like the song that played in episode 19 of the KnY anime (Kamado Tanjiro no Uta). At least it had the same ability to induce spontaneous onion-cutting.**

**Started writing a short drabble, that eventually evolved into a couple thousand words of set-up and future plot points. The merging of the two universes is a little rough (understandably, considering that one is set in the post-apocalyptic dystopian future and the other is in 1900s Japan), but hopefully some hand-wavey explanations can brush that aside. The Code Vein universe is deconvoluted from the God Eater one here, and there will be quite a few liberties taken with the lore of both Code Vein and KnY.**

**There will be quite a few references to some tracks from the Code Vein OST, both because I was listening to it while writing these two chapters over the weekend and because of the themes they portray. Hope you enjoy!**

**(Spoilers for Code Vein and KnY aplenty in this fanfic)**

* * *

He was asleep, and yet still conscious. If he strained his ears, he thought he could hear the sound of footsteps fading in the distance.

Just bare moments ago, he had absorbed all of the Queen's relics from the body of the frenzied and transformed Silva Gregorio, taking on the burden of the man who had sacrificed so much for the protection of Vein. Silva had cast aside everything – his dreams, his daughter, and even what tattered remains were left of his humanity, all in the hope that those within the Gaol of the Mists would be free from the fate that had befallen the outside world.

Now, that was to be his fate – no, his _duty_ as well. He, a Revenant that had long since lost his human name, that knew of nothing but blood and combat. All memories he had of the time when he was still human had faded long ago, lost within the hundreds (thousands?) of deaths since he was first transformed into a Revenant during Operation Queenslayer.

In the time since then, he had, rather unimaginatively, been nicknamed 'Revan' by Yakumo after revealing that he had forgotten his name. _Short for 'Revenant'_, his loyal and ever-cheerful friend said. It had caught on among the rest of his companions, ones who would now be seeing to the end of his journey.

He knew the weight of the burden that was placed unto him, but it was one he would readily accept. Of them all, it was he who had the least to lose. With the Relics reclaimed from the Successors, those who had taken on the arduous task of containing their power should return to their previous selves. Mia would have Nicola to take care of, Louis had Karen, Yakumo had Emily, and Jack and Eva had each other.

His story would end here, sitting on this forgotten throne. If fate would have it, it would be the Crypt of the second and final Queen, one who would maintain the mists forevermore.

He was aware of how his stalwart companions had paused just before the entrance to what would be his Crypt. He could hear the sound of faint sniffling – was that Mia, or Eva? Perhaps even Yakumo?

"_Goodbye,_" a single soft word was carried over to his ears, though he didn't know who had uttered it. There were several more heavy steps, followed shortly by the shutting of a door that would never be opened until the end of eternity.

Only one more remained by his side. His mind was quickly becoming dulled, but he could still faintly hear the words Io whispered to him, as she gently took one of his arms within her soft hands. He strained his ears as much as he could, but the pressure was quickly building up now, every ounce of willpower he had being put into maintaining the Red Mist.

"…_but for now… please, rest peacefully, until the time of your awakening comes once again…"_

He tried to tell Io to leave with the rest, to live the life she deserved to live. Try as he might, he no longer had control over his body, and he knew that his eternal rest would soon come.

Io, must have sensed some change within him, because he could feel her clutching his arm tighter against herself; a comforting gesture. Though his eyes were closed with heavy lids, he could vividly imagine the sight of the ever-pure and innocent Attendant smiling softly at him, giving up her chance to live the life she wanted to stay with him for eternity.

Her last words, softer than a whisper, reaching his ears as though through turbid mud, nonetheless echoed within his mind.

"_Don't worry… I will always be with you…"_

As consciousness slowly slipped away, he had just one final wish. If the power of the Queen could truly create miracles like the mistle and the Red Mist, even going so far as to create the Attendants themselves, he hoped that it would listen to his final selfish request.

_Please keep them safe…_

…_keep them safe, that they may all one day travel outside of the Mist when the Horrors are gone…_

As eternity approached, he kept their faces etched deeply within his mind.

-o-o-o-

_Louis. Yakumo. Mia. Io. Eva. Jack. Murasame. Coco. Davis. _

For eons, their names and faces were all he thought of in the muddied waters of his mind. All that mattered was keeping them safe, that they could fulfil each of their dreams. In the moments where he flickered in and out of consciousness, he could sense the world above changing, being moulded by the passage of time, but that was as far as he could stretch his numbed senses.

Revan didn't know how long he slept – didn't know that he could ever awaken – but awaken he did. For long seconds – or had it been minutes? – he sat there, as his senses returned to him one by one, and he could start to string together a thread of thought more complicated than mere descriptive terms.

It was dark within what should have been his Crypt, but with an ease borne of instinctive use he activated a Gift that enhanced his senses, unaware that he had even chosen to activate it at all. He cast a quick glance around. Now then…

…wow.

His Crypt had fallen into a state of disrepair. Stone had been weathered by what must have been water trickling down from above over the ages, and a clear layer of dust had built up on the already-damaged room from where he and his companions had fought against –

_His companions_.

With that thought, he made to stand from the throne, his heart pounding with the desire to learn of what happened to them. Were they alive? Had they –

His arm caught resistance, and he stilled, turning his gaze over to his right side. What had –

Abruptly, he felt his heart plummet at the sight.

Io was _still there_, a statue of stone, the final smile still captured on her face as she clutched at his hand from where she knelt. Though everything around him had been battered by the sands of time, she was still pristinely preserved after all this time.

For eternity, she had been by his side…

Very slowly and gingerly, he removed his hand from hers, and his knees gave way with a thud that echoed across the vast cavernous room. With trembling fingers, he placed a hand by her cheek, a familiar desperate sensation welling within him. Against all hope, he wished fervently that it wasn't as he feared it would be –

Her body of stone was cold, and though not even a speck of dust had sullied her form, he couldn't sense even the slightest trace of warm life within her.

"Io…"

For several long moments, Revan knelt there, just as unmoving as her, staring at a face that had been perfectly captured in a gentle and caring expression that was everything it meant to be _Io._

It was wrong, he felt, that he shed no tears for the one who had stood by his side for as long as he could remember, both in the literal and figurative sense. It was her who had found him after he had been reborn after slaying the Queen, and had saved him from an otherwise inevitable frenzy that came with the bloodthirst that all Revenants knew well. She had shown him how to use the blood of the Queen that he had unknowingly incorporated within him to restore the wilted mistles.

She had saved him and possibly all of Vein, giving up a chance to grow and live a life outside of the duty she had been created for.

Very painfully, he tore his gaze away from her unmoving body, examining the rest of the room. Time hadn't been kind to it, but the architecture remained more or less the same. There was the throne where he had been meant to rest for all eternity, and then the long bridge that connected it the platform to the entrance of his Crypt.

How much time had passed, anyway? Several years? Decades? Centuries?

Millenia?

It was surprising, then, that after the few minutes he had allowed himself to grieve over Io's fate, he was able to move his limbs with ease. In fact, as far as he could tell, it was as though time hadn't affected his body at all.

Sure, Revenants didn't age, but even then this was phenomenal. Was this part of the power he had inherited from the Queen at work?

He had many questions. What had happened during the time he had spent here? Where were the rest of his friends? How long had he been sleeping?

And then, there were the more traitorous thoughts. Had he failed in his duty? Had he, with his awakening, lifted the Red Mist, and allowed the horrors to finally destroy Vein?

There was only one way to get answers.

_I'll be back for you._

He squeezed Io's hand one final time. He picked up the weapon he had brought with him to his final encounter against the transformed Silva from where it had been placed just by the throne, carefully inspecting it.

Iceblood was just as immaculate as it had been, its keen edge deadly in both slashing and thrusting having somehow withstood all the years he had slumbered. Faint wisps of white mist trailed off from its edge, the only visual indication of the power contained within the weapon that had originally been crafted for the elite member of Cerberus who had later been transformed by Juzo Mido into the Blade Bearer.

Revan secured the weapon firmly by his side. With steps that displaced clouds of dust, he began to walk away from the throne, heading toward the rest of the room. He passed by the massive Argent Wolf King's Blade that had been Silva's, left discarded on the ground where he had been laid to rest. Then, he paused mid-way across the bridge as he came across a familiar sight.

The mistle on the bridge had dried up. Experimentally, he dug his nails into his palm, allowing his blood to drip down onto it.

After all this time, would his blood still restore the mistle created from Cruz's wishes, before she had frenzied and become the Queen?

The glass-like plant stirred as the first crimson drops cascaded down on its wilted leaves. Blackened and charred surfaces began to clear, a single white stem growing slowly, several branches extending from it. As more of his blood spilled down below, the blue-white glow that marked the plant capable of suppressing the Revenants' thirst for blood and restoring the dispersed flesh of slain Revenants began to intensify.

It grew in size, moving from no larger than a seedling to reaching his knees, before gradually growing to be almost as tall as him. It was slow; taking far longer than he was used to, but after the long eons without receiving the blood of the Queen it was a miracle in itself that the plant could still bloom.

Very unexpectedly, after it had still continued to grow for several minutes, the first fruits of his efforts began to form on its branches.

_Blood beads. _

Why were they forming outside of the bloodsprings? They were created and maintained by Karen, the Successor of the Heart, who had altered prexisting mistle into conduits for her own blood to provide an alternative to human blood in her selfless wish to sate their hunger. Louis had studied them extensively, but his research had never suggested the presence of bloodveins extending into the Provisional Government Center where Silva – and now he – maintained the Red Mist from.

…but Karen had been forced to relinquish her relic, he realised. The frenzied Silva had drawn in the relics of all the other successors, transforming himself into a mindless, fearsome Lost that he and his friends had only narrowly defeated. He had since absorbed it within _himself_, alongside all the other fractured relics that had once been the Queen.

Was the bloodsprings, then, something he had inherited alongside the relic?

There was no way to be certain, but Revan would welcome the blood beads regardless. He took several of the fluid-filled crystalline fruit, placing them in the pouches he carried by his waist. He couldn't travel through the mistle anymore, likely since the other mistles that had been activated would have wilted in his absence.

Well, he always preferred walking on foot, anyway. Dispersing himself into vapour and being guided by mistle reminded him too much of dying for him to ever truly enjoy that method of travel.

Slowly, he made his way over to the door that separated his Crypt from the rest of the world, before pausing once more at yet another strange sight.

_Those weapons…_

A soft smile spread across his face, as affection welled within him. He recognised them all, of course. It was hard not to, after all the time he had spent fighting alongside their wielders.

Louis' _Enduring Crimson, _Yakumo's_ Oni Bane, _Mia's _Brodiaea, _Eva's _Libertador, _Jack's _Executioner_, hell, even Io's _Dammerung_ –

Those damned idiots. A Revenant's weapon was their life. For them to leave something like this behind in his Crypt…

Again, he felt that mix of guilt and frustration that he shed no tears over that fact. If he ever – no, _when_ he saw them again, he would make sure to tell them off.

Telling them how much he missed them could come after.

Revan couldn't take all of them with him, of course. He eyed their treasured weapons carefully. He already had Iceblood, and he always preferred to travel light.

Brodiaea it was, then. He took Mia's bayonet, strapping it across his back, then reverently placed the rest of their weapons aside. He vowed that the next time he returned, it would be with his dearest friends.

Right, then. Time to see what had happened of Vein in his absence.

The door glowed a dull orange, marking the threads that formed the barrier that sealed off all the Crypts of the Successors. Fighting down the rising anticipation as best he could, he lifted his hand toward the barrier, feeling its power dissolve as it recognised the blood of the Queen within him and the relics he now housed.

Come to think of it, there was something new there that hadn't been present before…

It took only a few seconds for him to realise what it was. Well, what _they_ were, rather.

In the final battle against Silva, Revan had drained him of blood during combat with his Blood Veil, thereby gaining the power of his Blood Code. Likewise, with all of the scattered relics of the Queen once more reunited within him, he had inherited the Blood Code of the Queen herself.

Normally, mastery of the Gifts contained within them came with experience in combat, but the eternity he had spent in hibernation must have allowed their power to be incorporated into him, because there was the familiar sensation of being able to call upon their Gifts at any time that came with mastery.

He pushed open the door, a loud creaking sound echoing through the chamber after not having seen use for what must have been decades, at the very least. The doors parted, inch by inch, and he could see the world beyond the barrier –

_What the hell?_

He expected to find the elevator that led it to the rest of the Provisional Government Center, but came upon an entirely different sight.

He knew that the Successors could transform the environment around their Crypts. The vast, maze-like Cathedral of the Sacred Blood had been spawned from the Successor of the Blood and the Successor of the Ribcage, and the harsh, destitute Crown of Sand that housed only legions of the Lost were born from an Eva that had been brought close to frenzy by Mido's interventions. He could have expected some changes around his Crypt, his subconscious thoughts altering its environs, but this…

It looked _nothing_ like the district that had housed the Provisional Government Center.

Hell, it looked nothing like _Vein_.

Thick branches had twisted outside his Crypt. A gust of wind sent a pile of leaves that had built up just outside the door flying inside, sweeping the thick dust within the chamber in its wake. He stepped out, bewildered, trying to figure out just what was going on.

Was this a forest of some sort? The largest collection of trees he had seen in Vein were in the ruins of the park within the City Centre, but even their leaves were yellowed and well on their way to wilting. These trees were a verdant green, teeming with life, as Louis had claimed the world had once been before the Great Collapse when the Horrors first came. Even then, those had been claims from books he had read, since Vein had already fallen into a state of ruin by the time any one of them first became a Revenant.

Revan took a deep breath in, and was surprised to find that the air came back fresh. _Clean._

There was no Miasma_._ Even with his mask that acted as an air purifier on, areas tainted by Miasma had a distinct scent to it. No matter how thin it was, even in areas purified by mistle, he had become acutely aware of its presence.

Now, though, it seemed that there was none _at all_. Gingerly, he took his mask off, ready to replace it at any moment if it turned out that he was wrong.

A few seconds passed, and he showed no signs of the bloodthirst that marked the transition from Revenant to one of the Lost.

There was truly no Miasma here, even though the entire Provisional Government Center had been so thick with it when he and his friends fought their way through to where Silva lay. Slowly, he secured the mask over by his belt.

He was grateful for the fact, of course, but the absence of Miasma only added to his confusion.

Just what exactly had transpired while he had been sleeping?

He was about to make his way out into the world beyond, to find answers for the questions he was seeking, but paused momentarily. He turned back to face the Crypt, and in the darkness his Gift-enhanced sight could distinctly pick out Io's body kneeling by the throne.

"I'll be back, Io," Revan whispered. "I promise."

With that, he stepped out through the trees, moving in a single direction until he cleared the dense undergrowth. It took several minutes of trawling through the tangled mess of roots and branches, but at last he made it out. It probably wasn't a forest, then, since those were supposedly far larger, but it was still the single largest collection of living trees Revan had ever seen.

Now, though, his bewilderment only grew.

He stood in a ruin of some sort. It looked almost like a shrine or temple, but one that had clearly been untouched for decades. Stone tiles were cracked, puddles of water pooling up between them, and wooden beams were fractured and bent. Up above, stars shone brightly in the night sky.

Taking centre-stage of this 'temple' was what he assumed to be a shrine or altar. The overall architecture was symmetrical, and though it had long since fallen apart, Revan could clearly tell what the original design was. Two carvings of stone on either side of a central wooden structure, with a pair of horizontal beams being supported on either side by a longer vertical beam. Nearby, a building constructed of wood and stone had collapsed entirely, the wood already well into a state of decomposition.

If he had any doubts before, this had certainly cleared them up. Wherever he was, he was no longer in Vein as he knew it.

He needed to find his friends, to figure out just where he was and what had happened, but he didn't know where to even begin.

If he was being honest with himself, he felt lost and directionless.

In what few memories he had intact, he always had a sense of purpose. He had been part of Operation Queenslayer to put down the Queen after she frenzied. For whatever reason, he had been gifted with Void-type blood, that enabled him to absorb the Blood Codes of others, inadvertently allowing him to become the Successor of the Blood and adopting a fragment of the Queen's power.

Since then, his purpose had always been to help his friends achieve their dreams with the power he had undeservedly been given. Somehow, that mission had eventually led to him restoring the other Successors after they frenzied with the Vestiges they had left behind, and then later to taking on Silva's position in maintaining the Red Mist.

And there was the other matter that still eluded him. Without him on the throne actively maintain it, the Mist had faded, but as far as he could tell there were no Horrors around.

For just a brief moment, he remembered that selfish wish he had just before he truly entered his slumber, but surely it was too good to be true? Had he, or what remained of Cruz within him, lifted the Mist when the Horrors were well and truly gone?

He couldn't find answers to these questions just standing around idly. A clear path led out from the ruined shrine, although it too had fallen into a state of disrepair.

Still, though, a path meant civilisation, and civilisation meant _people_.

With a final glance in the direction he had come from, and the same whispered promise, he set off into an unfamiliar world.

-o-o-o-

_Blood._

Fresh, _human _blood.

He had never come across another human beyond the time that he, Louis and Yakumo had saved the girl from the starving Revenants who were hunting her down. Though he had died several times since then, and lost quite a sizeable amount of already-limited memories each time he was reborn at a mistle, he vividly remembered the fear and determination of the girl who had been about to end her own life just so she would stop being hunted by Revenants for her blood.

He remembered the nearly-overwhelming thirst the scent of her blood had brought. Had it not been for the blood beads he and his friends had consumed earlier that day, that alone may have sent him into a frenzy, possibly even becoming a Lost right there and then.

Now, even though all he had was the barest of whiffs of it in the air, its source still out of sight, he knew without question that there the overpowering and tantalising scent had to come from the bodies of many, _many_ humans. It couldn't be just be the merest of cuts, either; this had to be bodies being left out to drain.

Hell, with this density, there might even be more of them bleeding out than there were humans remaining in Vein.

There was no chance in hell that he would stand idly by, though. His friends would have his head if they ever got word that he stood by and allowed what must be an ongoing slaughter to continue. Louis had always wished for a world where humans and Revenants could live in unity, where the former wouldn't have to fear being hunted while Revenants could go by day to day without ever succumbing into the ranks of the Lost.

Revan took only a slight moment to steel himself, before forcing his very blood itself to adopt the properties of the Assassin Blood Code, that he had recovered from the memories of Riki while he had been exploring the Howling Pit. As the very essence of his blood shifted, he could feel his limbs lightening, and though the force his muscles could produce were lessened, he knew without a doubt that he was as fast as he could be.

Speed was of the essence here. He could switch Blood Codes again once he found the source.

Revan moved quickly, a phantom blur to any would-be observers. He pooled Ichor into his feet, weaving its power into the Gift of _Concentration_, allowing him to run longer and faster without tiring. The scent grew stronger with each passing second as his surroundings moved as a blur in his peripheral vision. He didn't know whether it was because he was growing closer to the source or because more humans were being slain, although he desperately hoped it was the former.

Within minutes, structures began to come into view. A collection of buildings; a settlement. Possibly a village.

At the back of his mind, he wondered just why they were made of wood rather than the towers concrete in Vein, but there were more important matters at hand.

With the enhanced hearing that came with his chosen Blood Code, he could very distinctly pick out the sounds of fighting. Clashing steel – something he was intimately familiar with – alongside far fainter grunting and panting, indecipherable words, and…

…laughter?

From there, it was only a matter of tens of seconds before he reached the village proper. Bodies littered the streets, their blood pooling under them, but he could spare no further thought for them. With the amount they had lost, there was no hope that any of them could be alive.

There was still the sound of fighting, although now one party was becoming more desperate, the ringing of steel coming more frequently alongside the sound of exhausted panting. Without wasting further time, he traced the sounds to their source, fighting down the thirst slowly building up with his single-minded focus on stopping whatever was going on.

He could sense it, now. Ichor. All Revenants and Lost produced that substance, allowing them to manipulate it and release its power in the form of Gifts granted by their Blood Codes. Ichor sustained their bodies, strengthening them, and over the years since Revenants first came into being, Ichor had since been channelled into their weapons and Blood Veils to enhance their combat potential.

Given the macabre sight the greeted him at every turn, the one responsible for all of this was clearly capable of planning and thinking. It couldn't simply be a mindless Lost hunting down humans.

It didn't make _sense_, though. Why would a Revenant need to kill that many humans? This amount of blood could easily feed a single Revenant for years. Possibly _decades_, even. He was enraged that the humans were being killed senselessly, since it went against everything he and his friends had fought for, but the fact that the blood was being wasted as it pooled into the cobblestone streets below irked him.

Simply put, it was as though this Revenant was killing humans just for the _purpose_ of killing humans.

Spurred on by that conclusion, he hurried himself further, dashing past winding streets and alleys, being met by the sight of mutilated and disembodied corpses all the while.

"…_help…"_

More than once, he very distinctly heard the sounds of gurgling as dying humans choked on their own blood, but there was no way he could save them from what was sure to be a fatal injury. All he could do was press on, and find the Revenant responsible for this.

He wasn't sure what to do from there, though. Would Revan fight him and destroy his heart, preventing him from ever reviving? Or would he simply kill him, and allow him to disperse into mist and eventually reform?

He didn't have time to dwell on that any longer, because as he turned into another alley, he finally came to the end of his chase. For an instant, both parties turned to look at him, as he arrested his momentum harshly against the stone floor with a resounding stamp of his feet.

In that instant, he shifted his Blood Code once more, altering it into his preferred _Queenslayer_, that had been his original Blood Code before he had lost his memories after the first death he could remember. It had already been a force to be reckoned with, given that he had defeated the Queen herself with the help of Jack and Silva during Operation Queenslayer. The addition of Gifts from other Blood Codes he had since mastered only empowered it further.

"Oh?" one of the combatants tilted his head slightly, a smile on his face, disregarding his previous opponent entirely. "Who might you be?"

Revan could feel the Ichor within the Revenant, now. If the fact that the other party was down and bleeding heavily on the ground didn't clue him in before, he now knew without a doubt that this person was the Revenant responsible for the slaughter. Around his neck, Revan's Blood Veil twitched slightly. Though Blood Veils were worn as armoured clothing, they were a living extension of Revenants, and now it was yearning to rip and drain the Ichor from his opponent.

He held a pair of golden fans in his hands, weapons that Revan could frankly say he had never seen before. The next feature he noted were his eyes – there were words engraved into it, as strange as it sounded. Under the moonlight, what was exposed of his face was pale, but there was no mistaking the trickle of blood at the corner of his lips that were still raised into a smile.

_No air purifier mask. No Blood Veil._

Was he even truly a Revenant? But he had Ichor…

No. A fight was no place to doubt.

_Cast aside your doubt_, Louis had told him when they had been forced to fight and kill Oliver Collins, after he had been exposed to Miasma and become a lost.

He spared a glance at the downed human, taking a moment to assess for his wounds –

No. Not a man. The woman was clutching a sword – a katana – and forcing herself to stand feebly on her feet. She swayed slightly on the spot, her face twisted in a grimace, blood at the corner of her lips. She wore an outer jacket of some sort, a white garment with a strange pattern of interweaving lines that looked almost like an insect's wings, and where it met the moonlight Revan could see that several patches of it were stained a deep red. A pair of hairpins shaped like butterflies secured her hair on either side, and he could see a layer of _frost_ building up on her long locks of hair, strangely enough.

Punctured lung. Shattered femur. Haemostasis had somehow been achieved, stopping her from bleeding out, but even then her injuries were still severe. How was she even able to remain conscious, much less attempt to stand?

She wasn't in good shape, then. She frowned for a moment as their eyes met, before looking back to her previous opponent. He took another brief instant to survey the battleground – there were slashes, likely from the woman's katana, and ice that adorned the surfaces of the street.

Did that come from that Revenant's Gifts?

"Hey! Don't ignore me!" the Revenant pouted, his voice far too gentle for one who had wiped out that many humans for no apparent reason. "Come on! You've got a cool-looking sword, there!"

"Why did you kill those humans?" he asked, his voice betraying no emotion, subtly preparing and activating a set of Gifts. Unseen by his would-be opponent, he could feel his muscles tensing and shaping, drawing upon Ichor-fuelled power, as _Bridge to Glory _and _Adrenaline_ took hold.

Those with more visually obvious features could come later.

"Oh? '_Humans'_, you say?" The Revenant tapped a finger to his chin, loosely holding the fan in that hand between his ring and little fingers. Then, his smile widened, but that joviality never quite seemed to reach his eyes. "You must be a demon too, then! I've not met you before, but the man makes plenty of us, huh?"

…a demon?

What?

The woman's eyes narrowed, shifting her stance on an already-injured leg. Where she had been treating him as a potential ally before, she now saw them both as enemies.

"I know!" the Revenant-demon declared, nodding sagely. "Since I'm a nice guy, as my new friend, I'll let you eat some of those humans after I kill this Hashira!"

"The hell is wrong with you?" Revan growled, Iceblood held tensely in a guard. This person was turning out to be more insane by the second, which was saying something, since Revan had dealt with the likes of the evolution-obsessed scientist Juzo Mido.

"Ohh?" he allowed his voice to trail off, still loosely twirling his fans in his hands. "Are you a new demon, hmm? Don't worry, I'll explain how this all works!" Again, there was something _odd_ in the way his tone and expressions didn't match. "You see, _Hashira_ is the highest rank among the Demon Slayers! Maybe one day, you'll get to eat one of them for yourself!"

He laughed, simultaneously jovial and yet empty and hollow. Anyone else might have missed the calculating look this Revenant was sending Revan, but with the number of battles he had fought in there was no way he wouldn't have caught that.

Hell, Revan was doing the same thing to him, studying his form closely. The outcomes of entire battles could be decided before they even began.

The fact that he used ice-based Gifts was a given. Fans were an odd weapon choice, but he assumed that their advantages lay in manoeuvrability and unpredictability. His sword would have a range advantage here.

"What's your name?" Revan asked, attempting to distract him while he prepared for his attack. After what he had seen, he was convinced that there was no choice but to truly end this Revenant's life. If he was as broken as he was now, the memory loss that came with death and revival would only bring him closer to the edge of frenzying and becoming a Lost.

"You are an odd one," he commented. "A demon… but not one of his? Intriguing!" He smiled serenely. "Doma, Upper Moon Two. Pleasure to meet you!"

Doma, huh?

Revan had no idea why he was calling them demons, or what the hell an 'Upper Moon Two' was, but he would discount everything else this 'Doma' said for later. _Fight first, ask questions later_, as Yakumo would say.

Without warning, Revan moved, cutting the distance between them in the blink of an eye. The Gifts of his sword activated, having already been pooling with Ichor in the time Doma had foolishly engaged in conversation, a lattice of ice spreading out at he thrust the blade directly into his opponent's heart.

The blade pierced through flesh cleanly, a direct and precise strike. As Revan withdrew the blade, a burst of ice sprang forth, travelling in a straight path through Doma's chest, terminating against the wall behind him as it crystallised and spread across its surface.

It was a clean kill. The heart was completely destroyed, but Doma…

"Ice, huh?" For the first time, there was a clipped edge to his voice, but the smile still remained affixed to his face. "Not bad. I like ice, too."

How the hell was he still alive?

Never mind the fact that the BOR parasites in the Revenant's heart that sustained its body should have been instantly destroyed by that, how was he able to still so nonchalantly continue talking as though nothing happened?

"My turn." Doma raised his fans, pointing each of them at his two opponents. Revan could sense the Ichor within Doma shifting, pooling into his weapons, ready to be unleashed in a Gift at any moment.

"Blood Demon Art: Scattering Lotuses!"

"Watch out!" the woman shouted, grunting slightly with pain, but forced herself to move and tumble aside.

Damn it. She couldn't block that attack on her own. Razor-sharp waves of ice and snow were heading toward each of them, and though he could dodge them easily, she would have no such luck.

It was going to be costly to his Ichor, but he really didn't have any other choice.

He grunted with exertion, shaping a Foulblood Barrier around each of them, and then quickly followed it up as the first shards of ice struck against his construct of blood and Ichor with an activation of Ice Armour.

The two defensive gifts held strong, weathering the assault that came from Doma's twin fans, and for the first time Revan saw a genuine emotion on his face.

_Surprise._

"What –"

"RUN!" he ordered the woman, wasting no time to press the attack.

If his opponent was kind enough to give him an opportunity to strike, he wasn't going to let it slip away.

"But –"

"I can't cover you and fight!" he shouted as he thrust Iceblood once more, although Doma proved to be capable of matching his speed now that he was treating him as an opponent. A fan parried his blade aside, and he was forced to strafe to the side to avoid being caught by the bladed edge of its twin.

"Blood Demon Art –"

"Severing Abyss!" he commanded absently, yelling the name of the Gift that had originally been one of Jack's as he executed it, leaping high into the air and then slamming down onto the ground below. A shockwave of force rang out from where his blade crashed against the ground, Doma having dodged backward just a split second before he would have been bisected. Stone and dirt were flung in all directions, as cracks spread outward in the aftermath of the impact.

Damn it. He was quickly running out of Ichor if he continued using that many Gifts in quick succession. He swung his blade quickly, lunging into a quick roll as he recovered from the Gift, nicking Doma in the side with a shallow cut that drained a small amount of Ichor.

"You –" Doma began saying, but Revan didn't let up. He managed to land two more quick slashes before his opponent disengaged, but he barely refilled any of his lost Ichor. They had moved out of the narrow alley, giving them both more breathing room to fight.

"Let's fight him together!" the woman's voice came from behind him, although her breaths were heavy and irregular, and there was a faint gurgling sound that came with her _punctured lung._

Damn it. Why was she still here?

"I told you to run!"

"He's an Upper Moon, even if you're a good demon, you can't possibly –"

"I don't even know what that means!" he snapped, seizing the opportunity to strike when he sensed that Doma had been distracted by their byplay. He only achieved the barest of nicks in his shoulder, before being forced to tumble to the side as Doma released a wave of frost toward him.

"What?!"

"Enough," Doma commanded, his voice deadly calm. "It will be daybreak soon, and I do want to eat this lovely Hashira. Blood Demon Art: Freezing Fog!"

A fine, silvery mist spread out from his fans, rapidly diffusing into the air around –

No, not mist. _Ice. _Small shards of ice, each of which could pierce through flesh or freeze upon contact with a surface. With that much of it being produced from his Gift, even simply breathing in air that cold would no doubt freeze and destroy his lungs on its own.

With the rate it was spreading, he couldn't just outrun it, not if he needed to evacuate the woman as well.

Damn it. Things would be so much easier if the woman had just listened to him and ran. After this, he wasn't sure if he would have much more Ichor to use another Gift without chipping away at Doma's.

"Walpurgis Fire!"

His blood raged in his veins, and he could feel the Ichor shifting underneath as it blended together with his blood, being shaped into the legendary flames of the Queen. A massive conflagration sprang forth, his inaugural use of the Gift not at all a disappointment, as all traces of ice melted away into water.

"Your face…" the woman breathed, her voice catching, but Revan paid her no mind. He saw an opportunity to attack, and he took it.

He raced forward, through the cloud of mist that formed when his Gift met Doma's own, his Blood Veil reacting to his intentions as a massive stinger extended out from the long tail of his coat.

In the instant he became visible, he saw Doma's eyes widen briefly, but his stinger was already in motion.

Once more, it pierced him in the heart, although this time draining Ichor greedily from Doma. A cast of Chaotic Ash from up close hastened the process, and he could feel his store of Ichor being replenished readily.

"What are you…" Doma spoke, his fans raised to point at him, and he quickly withdrew the stinger, returning his Blood Veil to its original form, ready for the incoming attack.

What he was _not_ ready for, however, was what came with absorbing the blood alongside his opponent's Ichor. It was a mild miscalculation, but one that interrupted the flow of the fight.

An extremely familiar sensation that greeted him, that of the world fading away, and he was met by darkness all around. A corridor of memories; faint sounds coming from all angles, and in the distance he could see lit braziers guiding the path.

A Vestige.

Without further ado, he moved forward, using this lull in the fight to see just what kind of life Doma had lived.


	2. Chapter 2

**Recommendation: Play Memory of the Lost (****from Code Vein) a couple ten or so paragraphs from the start, ****_Requiem_ a few sentences after the first text divider, and Amber Journey (hey hey, title drop!) when nearing the end of the chapter.**

**...at least those were what I was listening to at the time...**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Kanae Kocho was _very _confused.

Just a few hours ago, a Kagusai crow had flown over to her Estate, delivering an urgent message of an ongoing demon attack within one of the villages in the district she was charged with protecting. She had hastily scrawled down a message to tell Shinobu and Kanao that she was leaving on a patrol – that late in the night, her sisters would already be asleep – and then left post-haste in the direction of the village.

For a demon to attack humans so openly, it had to be either an inexperienced one, or one whose boldness came from an understanding of his own strength. She had sorely hoped it was the former, or at the most one of the Lower Moons, because she doubted she had the strength to defeat any of the Upper Moons on her own.

When she finally came face to face with the monster, her heart had plummeted when she realised that her opponent was the Upper Moon Two; third strongest demon that currently existed.

She knew that she was going to die, but there was no way she could retreat and wait for backup from the other Hashira. Lives were being lost by the second.

And so, perhaps foolishly, she had engaged in combat against the demon, hoping to at least stall its assault until daybreak when it would perish in sunlight. For several minutes, she thought she just might have a chance at beating him when some of her strikes actually landed, but his smile and façade of kindness never left his face.

It became clear as to why soon enough. He had decided that he was done toying around with her, and promptly released a barrage of ice with his Blood Demon Art that punctured her lung and fractured her femur when she had been unprepared for the change in the tempo of the fight. She continued to fight valiantly – daybreak should come within less than an hour, now – but she knew that there was going to be no hope of surviving the night.

Damn it. She wished she could have said a proper goodbye to her sisters.

Then, just as suddenly, a newcomer arrived to the fight. She had initially thought him to be one of the Demon Slayers in the vicinity upon seeing that strange sword he carried, but he didn't wear their uniform. The jacket he wore seemed to be made of a leather-like material, but she swore that at times it was shifting and moving on its own. Even injured as she was, she shouldn't be hallucinating _that _badly.

Then, the Upper Moon soon dissolved her of the notion that he was a Demon Slayer at all, claiming him to be a fellow demon. His blood-red eyes and the faintly shifting, bulging veins on his face confirmed that as well.

Strangely enough, he didn't even seem to be aware of the fact that he was a demon.

More strangely, he had promptly _attacked_ Doma, who by all regards was leagues above him in the demon hierarchy. Even more surprising was that he could fight well enough to land a strike of his own. He had moved quickly enough to catch even the Upper Moon by surprise, thrusting his blade through his fellow demon's heart, and then promptly sent a venerable deluge of ice flooding out in the direction his attack had taken.

If she had any doubt of him being a demon before, that corrected any contrary notion she had.

But if he was a demon, why was he fighting against his senior?

Doma had said that he was supposedly not one of _his…_

Could it be that there were demons out there that weren't created by Muzan? Could there truly be good demons?

Would it be possible that demons and humans could coexist?

She didn't have the time to ponder on that, though, because Doma had unleashed another Blood Demon Art. Even though she tried to dodge aside, with her femur fractured, her mobility had been greatly reduced. She prepared herself for death, when yet another miracle happened.

The other demon had somehow used a completely different Blood Demon Art, forming a semi-solid red barrier around her and himself, and then a second technique that created a shell of ice that absorbed the incoming projectiles.

All the while, he hadn't paused in his attacks, seizing every opportunity he had to strike at Doma with inhuman speed, strafing, tumbling, rolling and vaulting around the battlefield. This wasn't some new, inexperienced demon. That style of fighting had to be born of countless battles.

For the first time, a flash of true emotion had crossed the Upper Moon's face, when none of his attacks connected while the unknown demon managed to slash at him several times.

How had she or anyone else in the Corps never heard of this demon before?

Then, when Doma released yet another Blood Demon Art he had been holding back, she couldn't stifle the gasp of surprise that escaped her lips as the newcomer released another one of his own.

His eyes burned with blue fire, the veins on his face bulging and glowing a vivid blue, as more vessels became prominent around his face and what was exposed of his body. Then, he released a glowing orb from his free hand that burned bright as a star, unleashing an explosion of fire the likes she had never seen before from the hands of any prior demon she had fought.

Without missing a beat, he continued advancing, somehow growing a scorpion-like metallic _stinger_ that oozed a crimson vapour, piercing deep into Doma's heart.

As if the frenzy of emotions she had already experienced that night wasn't enough, she soon found herself standing alone in what looked like a long corridor of a house, stretching as far as the eye could see. Her injuries, oddly enough, had disappeared, as she came to realise after taking several tentative steps forward. Her katana had likewise disappeared.

Where was she now? What was even going on?

Slowly, she made her way forward –

"_This child has rainbow-coloured eyes."_

She turned sharply toward the sound, coming face to face with an open room, tatami mats laid down upon the floor, moving to draw her katana by sheer instinct. There were what looked to be a pair of adults, peering down at an infant child, their bodies entirely a monochrome gray.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "Are you alright? Where are the demons?"

There was no reaction to her words. Her presence hadn't even been noticed. She entered the room, stepping closer to the oddly-still humans. She extended a hand, trying to touch them, and was surprised to find that her limb simply passed through them.

"Pale gray hair on his head is proof of his innocence," the man continued saying. "This child of ours is truly special."

She studied the pair more closely. He had a religious headdress atop his head, while the woman wore a beautiful kimono, but beyond that she couldn't find any other feature that stood out.

"He probably hears the voice of the gods," the woman agreed readily. "What shall we name him?"

The man paused in consideration for a few seconds, then spoke.

"Doma." Kanae gasped loudly, but once more there was no reaction by the trio in the room. "His name is Doma."

Abruptly, they vanished into nothingness, and the room shifted. The door behind her closed, while a door on the opposite side slid open without any input on her part, revealing a second dark room within.

Were these the demon's _memories_?

Steeling herself, she continued onward.

The moment she entered the room, it immediately became illuminated, objects and people appearing from nothingness. There was what looked to be a shrine that one might find in a temple, and a child – Doma, she presumed – sat atop a grand, cushioned chair on a raised platform.

_I was born into a family of fools,_ a voice came at her ears, and one she recognised well. Doma's.

Momentarily, she flinched, her hands once more brushing over where her katana should have been, but no attack came.

_My parents were dimwits. They created the ridiculous Eternal Paradise cult, and claimed that I was gifted by the Gods due to my rainbow-coloured eyes. I felt sorry for them, and played along in their charade, but I never once heard the voice of the Gods._

Again, the scene changed, as a now slightly-older child sat atop the same throne, as several people knelt down before him.

_It was bizarre, at first, that my followers worshipped and prayed to me. Adults would come crying to me – a child – saying they were suffering and in pain and didn't know what to do. Their stories were all so boring, but at the end they would always kowtow to me and beg me to lead them to paradise._

He sat there, smiling serenely at his following, the ethereal figures still as a statue as they looked reverently up at him.

_I cried. How sad it was, that paradise does not truly exist. The Gods do not exist, and yet these fools believe so fervently in them. When you die, you just become nothing. Your heart stops beating, your organs fail, you die and you rot. How difficult it must be for them to be so dumb._

The room vanished and was reformed again. Now, Doma looked on with indifference at a bloodstained room, the bodies of two people Kanae had seen just moments prior lying on the ground, a knife discarded by their side. Even after all that she had seen in her time as a Demon Slayer, the macabre scene still startled her.

_My father was a lecher who dallied with female cult members day after day. My mother stabbed him to death, and then killed herself with poison. _

_I felt emotion, at the time. I was annoyed that she had messed up the room. The stench of blood was truly awful._

Her heart ran cold, at the monster of a child who hadn't yet even become a demon. His circumstances weren't great, true, but to have such an utter lack of even an ounce of empathy…

_I knew, then, why I was born. I wanted to make these pitiful people happy and to help them when they came to me with their requests. If they wanted to die so badly, it would be remiss of me not to help them._

Kanae heard the sound of steel ringing through air, and suddenly, within the blink of an eye, she found herself standing within a now blood-soaked room, the mangled bodies of dozens of people lying in it, with Doma at the very centre. Entire shelves were filled with skulls – _human _skulls, Kanae realised, the sight utterly revolting to her eyes.

The entirety of the room vanished, and she found herself falling down for a brief instant. Before panic could even set in, she once again met solid ground, and found herself standing in front of what looked like a temple. The steps were drenched with blood, bodies littered all around, as a multitude of followers of what she now knew to be Doma's cult continued kneeling before a now adult Doma.

_It was then, at the age of twenty, that I met him. _

Again, she gasped, as _he_ appeared.

Kibutsuji Muzan. The progenitor of demons.

The one that the Demon Slayer Corps had sworn to end, and had never before been seen by any living person in the past century.

Shockingly, he looked completely human.

"_Hmph_," the figure spoke with indifference as he regarded the carnage all around him. "_Not too shabby, I suppose."_

_It was then that I knew my true purpose._

"_How would you like to become a demon, boy?"_

_I accepted his blood, and it was then that I learnt that I was wrong. Gods didn't exist, but demons certainly did. I had found my purpose at last._

_I would eat and devour maidens, and grow to become strong. I would become powerful, just as my parents and those idiotic followers wished._

With that, she heard the sound of a thunderclap, and found herself in the seemingly endless corridor once more. Tatami mats began to fly in front of her, arranging themselves into a staircase, as a massive ornately-decorated silver gate began to open, rays of bright light lying just beyond the threshold.

Slowly, she stepped onto the floating mats, surprised that it could even bear her weight, and made her way through the gate.

There she was again in the bloodied alley of the village, her katana once more in her hands, and she was painfully aware of the fact that her injuries had returned. With one lung punctured, she couldn't even use the Breath of the Flower to its maximum effectiveness.

"What was that…" Doma muttered. He was shaking his head, as though clearing his thoughts, genuine agitation and surprise evident in his movements.

"Those were your memories," Kanae spoke, brandishing her katana as she grimaced against the agony that the movement brought. "Weren't they?"

It was as though no time had passed in the strange intermission that had taken hold over the battle. The remnants of the ice that both demons had unleashed was still there scattered within the streets and walls, not yet melted, and there were still embers of flame from the fire-based Blood Demon Art that the still-unknown demon had used.

Doma was smiling once more, returning to the shell of empty emotion he had presented through their entire battle. "Who knows? Perhaps they were," he nodded rapidly. "Maybe they weren't. Either way, it doesn't matter."

"What do you mean?" she asked dangerously, coughing. Damn. She thought she had stopped the coagulated the blood in the ruined branches of her pulmonary and bronchial arteries to stop the flow from leaking into her lungs.

"I'd really like to kill and eat you, but it's going to be daybreak soon. Can't stick around, I'm afraid," he said, shaking his head. "Besides, I believe that our friend here will do the job just fine for me."

"What are you –" She whirled around to face the other demon as she spoke, pausing mid-speech when she saw just what was happening.

If she thought the display she had seen earlier was impressive, it was nothing compared to what he was like now. His eyes were glowing fiercely, the veins around them pulsing with red and blue light. Intertwined between them were a series of blackened vessels, quickly spreading across his face. More disturbingly, a purple vapour of some sort was swirling around him, growing in density with each passing second.

"I'd say see you again, but I think that won't be necessary," Doma said, folding up his fans. "Hey! Don't worry! If he kills you, he'll die quickly enough once day comes. Who knows, maybe you two can meet each other in the afterlife!"

He gave a hollow laugh. "Of course, you already know I don't believe in an afterlife, after seeing those memories." He continued to speak mockingly. "I don't know what he did, but hey? It doesn't matter as long as you both die, right?"

With that, he sprinted off quickly, leaving the village just as suddenly as he came and slaughtered all the innocent villagers.

She wanted to give chase, to stall him until daybreak, but her injuries were too severe. Then, she heard the sound of painful groaning from the other demon, and abandoned all notion of attempting to fight Doma.

"Hey!" she spoke, stepping closer, but her legs gave way, tumbling down onto the ground.

Had she been that injured?

Now that she thought about it, she was starting to feel just a little bit faint.

"What's wrong?" she urged, as the eerie purple cloud continued to condense around him. She tried to reach out from where she lay on the ground, but was stopped by a harsh, grating voice.

"_**GET AWAY!**_**" **His voice reverberated, speaking as though from a dozen tongues at once. "The Miasma – I can't –"

He was shivering, his entire body tensed up, clearly struggling against himself. "_Blood…_" he groaned. "The scent… overpowering…"

Blood. Demon.

"Get away! Run!"

No. She couldn't abandon him like this. Demon or not, he had saved her life. He had, against all odds, somehow proven that demons who fought _for_ humans existed.

"I'm not –" She coughed again, her words punctuated by the blood in her lungs. She was beginning to feel even more faint, now, but she fought to hold onto her consciousness with all that she had. "I'm not leaving you!"

"You need to – _ARGH!"_ His back arched over backwards, his entire body shaking intensely, as the vapour now coalesced as though a shell around him.

It continued on for several seconds, before he became completely silent. All that was heard was her own panting breaths, as she fought with all she had against her injuries, and the slow, steady swirling of the mysterious purple mist around him.

When he looked back toward her, his eyes were now a dark and impenetrable purple. He stepped slowly toward her, his footsteps thudding against the ruined village street.

"Blood…"

The word was spoken with complete calm now. He reached a hand out toward her. With her injuries, she couldn't move.

"Please," she tried to reach for the good she knew was within him. She had no idea just what was happening to the demon, but he seemed to be losing control to some unknown force with each second.

"_BLOOD!"_

He lunged forward, and she closed her eyes, thinking only of those she would leave behind.

_Sorry Shinobu, Kanao. Sorry Aoi, Sumi, Kiyo, Naho. Big sister will be going on ahead._

-o-o-o-

Doma's Vestige was proving to be a lot stronger that he anticipated. After exiting from the memory, Revan had promptly been assaulted by the blood entering his veins, as Doma's Blood Code began to become incorporated into his system.

It was as though knives were piercing deep into his flesh from every possible angle, at every possible organ. It was like how it had been when he peered into the Vestiges of the defeated Successors – no, possibly worse than that, even. It was more like the brief agony he had felt when he absorbed the relics from the transformed Silva.

How could Doma possess such power, without one of the Queen's relics?

As he struggled, he was completely aware of the overpowering scent of blood in the air all around. Now, as he continued absorbing Doma's Blood Code, he was _famished._ It was a hunger beyond any he had previously experienced.

His vision was stuttering, pulsing; his sight maddeningly incomprehensible as colours danced in his vision.

He needed –

"Blood…"

He needed blood. There was a human right in front of him. She couldn't move.

_No, _he resolved. _Not her. Not a human. There are blood beads –_

He tried to warn her to run away, but he wasn't certain if his words ever left his lips. His ears were pounding – no, that was his heart; his ears were deafened, all senses except _taste and smell_ completely dominated by blood coming from the little morsel in front of him –

Another wave of the scent assailed his olfactory system as he inhaled, and his resolve weakened.

"Blood…"

Damn. He was losing control. And this vapour –

Miasma…

Queen… Lost…

Concepts were coming to him, but he couldn't string them together coherently, what with the overpowering scent of blood from the pathetic foolishly _squirming powerless little human __**lying on the ground just in front of him –**_

His hand moved without any conscious input on his part, the sheer _yearning_ for blood prevailing over rational thought.

_Please…_

He heard a voice cutting through the haze – who was that? He recognised it, but…

For an instant, he paused.

Then, with another inhalation and the accompanying vapours of blood, his primal urges won over. His hand continued stretching out, the sharp claws of his Blood Veil materialising into being –

'_**Peccatum…'**_

A voice. Singing.

'_**Peccatum…'**_

The words were familiar.

'_**Regina in peccatum…'**_

Eva's voice? No, hers was slightly different, but this song –

'_**Debilitas, fragilitas,  
Transtuli sanguis venenus…'**_

Weakened and frail, the bearer of poisoned blood…

The Queen. Once Cruz, and now –

_Him._

'_**Saeptus persisto et fortis…'**_

Contain. Persist. Remain strong.

Fight. Struggle.

He couldn't give in to his frenzy here. He had to fight; he couldn't – _wouldn't – _become a Lost. The Queen couldn't be reborn…

"_**Est interior impartitus divi…"**_

The Queen's power was created to _save_ the Revenants. He would not fail himself, would not fail his friends even if they weren't with him now –

"…_**conversus sat futurum..."**_

He would _make his own future. _He would not fall as Cruz eventually had, despite how determined she had been.

_Please… save everyone._

A request given in a time long past, one he had promised he would see through. When had that been? It was hard to tell, with how foggy his mind currently was, but now he could string together a few coherent thoughts.

"That singing…" He heard a voice from the woman in front of him, but he couldn't answer right now. His mind was temporarily clear, but still he felt the hazy veil of bloodthirst encroaching upon him.

Priorities. Blood. He needed blood.

A hand moved quickly to the pouch by his side, withdrawing a blood bead, and he bit down on its end readily, crunching through its crystalline exterior, greedily taking gulp after gulp of the liquid within.

Then he took a second one out while he hadn't even finished with the first, and continued drinking.

"That purple haze disappeared," the woman breathed. Now that his mind was slightly cleared, he could tell that she was straining against her injuries, fighting against unconsciousness. "What was –"

"GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"

The woman's head whirled around surprisingly fast to his side considering how injured she was. Dazed as he was, he registered the threat and warning just a moment too late. The blood bead in his hand was half-emptied, Iceblood held in his other hand, but he couldn't raise it quickly enough –

"Wait, Shinobu, don't –"

– and he suddenly felt a sharp pain through his neck.

What –

He tried to turn his head, but was fixed in place.

"Oh," he tried to say, but doing so was surprisingly hard when there was a thrusting sword pierced through his throat.

"What have you done to Kanae, demon?"

The blade twisted, and though he might have been capable of regenerating a mortal wound like that in any other state, everything was still feeling excruciatingly numb to him at present.

Damn it. After all that, he was still going to die.

"Shinobu, wait!" he heard someone urge, her words rasping. "He saved my life –"

He fell to his knees, now, but he could already feel his form disappearing into mist. The half-emptied blood bead fell from his hands, meeting and rolling onto the ground below with a sharp '_clink'._

"No, don't –"

He _really_ hated dying, especially when he didn't have the time to prepare for it.

He closed his eyes in concentration. He clung on to what memories he could, holding tight onto concepts, names and faces of those closest to him.

"Sister?" the new arrival asked, and he could just pick out a tone of surprise, disbelief and relief in her words. "Kanae? What do you mean?"

A hand was pressed on his chest, but that too was dissipating. He heard the sound of it meeting the floor below him a moment later.

"Why did you save me?" she sounded desperate, a palm on his face. "Who are you?"

He couldn't answer, really, with his throat gone.

"Don't die! Please!"

A few seconds later, he felt the familiar sensation of paradoxically existing as an innumerable amount of nothingness, the BOR parasites that sustained his undeath destroying his body and beginning to work at reforming it. Hopefully he wouldn't lose too much time in doing so, although a death in his currently weakened state would no doubt be costly.

_Io. Louis. Mia. Yakumo. Jack. Eva. Murasame. Coco. Davis._

_Nicola. Karen. Emily. Aurora. Cruz._

Then his own name, or the closest thing he had to one. _Revan._

He held onto those memories tightly as his consciousness faded once more.

-o-o-o-

They were fragments.

Every Revenant had his or her own way of holding onto the memories closest to them. Memory loss with each death was inevitable, and the only way to at least reduce the chance of forgetting one's identity entirely was to hold fast to what it _meant_ to be them.

Louis' thoughts were always of his sister and the dream they shared, and the guilt he bore for what he felt had led to the Queen's frenzy. Mia remembered the days she had spent with Nicola, and what she had done to survive after becoming a Revenant. Yakumo was defined by his memories of the comrades he had from when he was still human, and then later when he had awoken as a Revenant. Jack and Eva had their shared history.

He?

He had no such thing.

He didn't remember a thing of the time when he was a human. The name he had wasn't even a real name, or one he had chosen for himself. Yakumo had come up with it, and 'Revan' had just accepted it as his own.

Even the memories of his role in Operation Queenslayer had been lost at first, only recovered when he had chanced upon his own Vestige in the Cathedral of the Sacred Blood.

He had no loved ones to remember and ground him by. His life – _lives – _were defined by the battles he fought in. From Operation Queenslayer, to killing Oliver Collins – his first friend in what memories he had since his first rebirth after slaying the Queen – and then to each of the Greater Lost he had slain, it was those fights that had seen him die time and time again that grounded him.

Piecing them together chronologically was always difficult. Had he killed the Invading Executioner or the Queen's Knight first? Was the Queen the one that died, or had it been the Blade Bearer? Where did the Butterfly of Delirium fit in?

They were fragments, scattered, ephemeral, a complete mess – and those were just the more _memorable_ fights. There were countless more, against entire legions of nameless Lost. Thousands upon thousands of fragments, near impossible to piece together in any way that made sense.

_He raised his sword, piercing it through the heart of someone who had unquestioningly been his friend – _

_The Blade Bearer roared, Iceblood lowered horizontally to the ground as her legs bent, thrusting forward faster than the eye could see. He dodged, unleashing a Gift of his own, as his companions dealt with the Cannoneer – _

_Poison was thick in the air. His lungs were quickly becoming filled with it, but he could not fall here. The Butterfly of Delirium dove down on him, and with a challenging bellow, he lifted his Zweihander high above his head – _

Slowly, with excruciating effort, he tried to fit them together as best he could.

There was one final fragment, one he had initially forgotten, but had quickly become one that defined just who he was.

It was a memory from his own Vestige.

_The Queen deflected Jack's blade aside, swatting him away as though a mere gnat. She was distracted. He had a chance, here and now, to end the rampaging monster who had taken the lives of so many Revenants and turned countless more into the ranks of the Lost. _

_Already, he could feel his lungs filling with the Miasma, his purifier mask having been removed by one of her spears just seconds ago. He fought with all he had against the inevitable transformation, willing every fibre in his being to act and move._

_His Blood Veil morphed, materialising as a claw around his hand, and he thrust it forward. It pierced cleanly through her heart._

_It was over. He stared into the Queen's eyes in his final moments. She would die, and he would be joining her shortly._

_Her eyes… her eyes were kind. Full of guilt. He felt a gentle caress against his cheek. He heard the words she spoke, carried over faintly by the wind._

_He removed his claw, as purple blood gushed out from where her heart would be._

_Moments later, he would die, killed by Jack and Silva and spared from becoming a member of the Lost._

_He _should_ have died permanently there, but his final act had caused him to become the Successor of the Blood, taking on a fragment of the Queen's power as his own. Like all Successors, he could not truly die._

_And so, he was reborn as the nameless Revenant. Her final words were the mission he had taken unto himself._

'_Please… save everyone.'_

He placed that memory at the fore of all else, in the order that made chronological sense. Now, then, he could sift through his memories again.

He fought. He died. He fought again. On and on it repeated, fighting and dying by his friends' side. Then he had become the Queen, and…

… there, things became hazy. He remembered leaving his Crypt, he remembered fighting against… _something_ – a demon? A Revenant? He remembered making his way through a Vestige. He had fought against the power of the Blood Code he had absorbed, had almost turned into a _Lost_ and caused the Queen to come into being once more.

Annoyingly enough, he couldn't remember a thing about who his opponent had been, or why Revan had been fighting against him in the first place. What he did remember was that curiously enough, this other Revenant had received the blood of someone he assumed was yet another Revenant, and had become transformed into one.

It didn't make sense. Revenants were created by implanting BOR parasites into the hearts of the deceased.

Were these _not _Revenants, then? Were they truly demons, as his… opponent (he couldn't remember a name, try as he might) termed them? But he distinctly remembered that he had made use of Ichor…

Demons, and Revenants. How did they differ?

If he was able to pursue that kind of logical thinking, his body should be reforming soon. How much time had he lost, anyway? He didn't know how long it had been between his death at the culmination of Operation Queenslayer and finding himself without memories together with Io at the bloodspring, but he assumed it would be a similar amount of time after the ordeal he had gone through.

He could feel himself shifting, the countless motes of mist that was currently _him_ coalescing together. He had limbs, he had a torso, he had a face and a heart, but…

This wasn't the real world.

In fact, hadn't he been here before?

He stood upon a small, rectangular platform, empty space spreading as far as he could see from its edges. In front of him, he could see a woman with her back turned toward him. Long silver hair cascaded down her back, blending against the faint blue-grey dress she wore.

Revan hadn't known who she was back then, when he had lost all his memories, but now he did.

"Cruz."

She stiffened slightly, then looked over to face him.

There was that same sorrowful smile on her face, tinged with loss and bittersweet guilt, just as it had been when he finally killed the Queen she had become after her frenzy.

"We finally meet," she said, echoing the words of their first meeting in this strange space what felt like lifetimes ago. "Are you clearheaded?"

"I have most of my memories intact this time, if that's what you're asking," he said dryly. "I didn't expect to see you here again."

She seemed to be taken by momentary surprise, but then smiled softly.

"I am a part of you, now," she said. "You absorbed all the relics of the Successors, and I live once more within you."

"I see." He nodded, then stared at her deeply in the eyes. He hadn't known who she was before, but now there were many things he wanted to say. "Cruz… I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?"

"I saw your life, through your Vestiges and those of others," he explained slowly, putting his thoughts into words. "You fought so hard against frenzying. You tried to ask Louis to kill you. And even at the end…" He gestured helplessly with his hands, then gave up. "I'm sorry, Cruz. I couldn't save everyone."

"Don't –" her words caught in her throat, and she stepped forward. There was still so much _guilt_ in her eyes. "You saved them all. You maintained the Red Mist. You kept the bloodsprings active until the Mist fell. You did what I couldn't."

_At what cost? _Oliver died. Revenants still fought for what blood and blood beads remained in Vein. The Successors gave in to frenzy, and even though he had saved a few, many more fell to the relics, and were transferred over to other unfortunate Revenants. Silva, who had acted in the interests of those of Vein, was betrayed by Mido.

Hell, he didn't even know what had happened in the time he had been asleep.

Wait… what had she just said?

He took a second longer to process the words, and didn't find any other way to interpret that.

"How do you _know_ that?" he breathed. "I killed you years before any of that even happened…"

"I regained consciousness when I became whole within you," she explained patiently, her voice soothing, and yet guilt-tinged. "I could feel you fighting to keep up the Red Mist, and then allowing it to fall once the world beyond was finally safe."

"Then you're saying –" Hope surged within him, but he suppressed it. It was too early to be optimistic. "They left Vein? They're alive?"

"I…" Cruz hesitated. "I don't know. The Red Mist fell over one and a half thousand years ago."

_1500 years –_

"What?!" He couldn't contain his outburst. "But how – why –"

It couldn't be true, could it? Fate couldn't be that cruel?

But fate had also doomed Cruz to becoming condemned as a monster, had made those who fought for the good of all into the very beings they struggled against…

"I believe that you continued hibernating even after the Mist fell and the bloodsprings had stopped running because you were absorbing my power as your own," she continued saying, although clearly sparing a great deal of consideration for his present state of… well, confusion, frustration, loss and a whole myriad of other emotions. "You must also have been suppressing my frenzy while I lived within you."

"But the world outside this Crypt looked nothing like Vein…" he mused aloud. "Did the technology of the world revert from what it had been? Had the Horrors caused civilisation to regress?"

"I don't know," Cruz said, her voice low. "I was just as surprised as you."

"More than a thousand years…" he repeated. "Are any of them even still alive…?"

Had they died? Worse, had they become Lost?

Would he have to kill one of his dearest friends that meant the world to him?

"They visited your Crypt," she said, and he looked at her hopefully. "Many times, in fact. Even after the Mist fell, they continued to come, but couldn't make it past the barrier."

"Those idiots…" It sounded just like them. Only a Successor could make it past the barrier, and he had taken all the relics unto himself. "When was the last time?"

"I can't be sure," she said hesitantly. "My perception is tied to yours. It could be a few hundred years ago, or more than a thousand."

Damn. That didn't give him much hope that he would ever see them again.

"And Io?" he asked. "She's turned to stone…"

"The Attendants were created from my dying wish, to ease the burden of the successors," she said gently. "With your sacrifice, her task was completed."

No. It couldn't be. It didn't make sense.

"The other Attendants vanished into nothingness," he countered. "They didn't turn to stone."

"Her task is done, but…"

"But?" he followed up promptly.

"Io was different from the others," she said. "You gave her a purpose different from what she had been created for. She defined her own life, so…"

"Her purpose is not yet complete," he finished. "She's inactive, but she's still around."

Cruz nodded.

"But what is her purpose? She should have left with the others; found the meaning of her own life…" he said, airing the thoughts that haunted him. "She shouldn't have stuck with me for eternity…"

Cruz had no answer to that, looking at him sorrowfully.

"I'm sorry, Revan," she finally said, her head lowered. "If I was just a little stronger – if I could fight against the Miasma –"

"It's not your fault," he said tiredly. "I saw your memories, Cruz. You gave everything you had. Hell, if I were in your position, I would have frenzied a long time before you did."

Wait… frenzy… he remembered almost losing control in a fight that he, frustratingly, still couldn't remember any other detail of…

The singing. That voice.

"It was you," he realised.

"Hmm?" Cruz looked at him, concerned.

"That song," he continued saying. "The one that Eva sang. It was your voice that calmed me when I was about to frenzy…"

"I had to do something," she said guiltily. "I could feel your emotions. You were so close to becoming a Lost, I had to try to do anything to calm you down."

"Thank you," he said sincerely. She seemed startled by the fact that anyone would even think to say those words to her; to the Queen that rampaged through Vein.

Once more, he really, _really_ hated Juzo Mido for everything he had done.

If she lived inside him, then perhaps…

"That's why I didn't frenzy," he reasoned. "The Queen's power is shared between us both. Your consciousness remained calm even though I was about to lose myself. Together, we did what neither of us alone could."

"That…" She bit her lip, deep in consideration. "That _is_ a reasonable possibility…"

"You saved _me_, Cruz. Thank you."

Again, she was startled by that. "I don't know what to say –"

"You can just accept my damn thanks, you know," he spoke dryly, interrupting her. "You aren't the Queen anymore. For whatever reason, we share that role now."

For a few moments, the stunned look remained on her face, before slowly spreading into a wide smile.

_This_ looked a little more like the Cruz Silva he had seen in Louis' memories, cheerful, compassionate and friendly, from the time before she had frenzied.

They fell into silence for a while, each pondering over different matters. Revan desperately wanted to know of the fate of his friends, but there were some immediate matters that worried him.

"I don't suppose you remember anything about the Revenant – demon – _thing_, that we fought?"

Cruz shook her head. "After you died, my memories were scattered, just as yours were. For better or worse, we are tied together now."

Well then. Hopefully the next time he met the foe he had been facing, he would have more luck. Dying really sucked, even if he was technically immortal. Hopefully, he wouldn't be caught off guard by a sudden frenzy.

"Did you gain the demon's Blood Code?" Cruz asked curiously. "You might be able to learn more about him from there."

That was a good suggestion. He concentrated for a moment, feeling out at what had changed in his blood. There was something there, but…

"It's no good." He shook his head. "I can sense the Ice-based Gifts in his Code, but they're all locked behind other Vestiges. I can't even get a read on his strengths or weaknesses with what I saw when I drained his blood."

"Sorry –"

She paused mid-speech, as Revan shot her an unamused glare.

He snorted. She really needed to stop apologising for things outside of her control. "Better."

"What are you going to do now?" Cruz asked after a few seconds of silence.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I want to find the rest of them, but I don't even know where to begin…"

He considered the matter more carefully. These 'demons' seemed so much like Revenants, except created by transference of blood to a _living_ human. It seemed to be as good a lead as he was going to get.

Who knows, perhaps one of his friends might be investigating the same phenomenon.

"I think we should look deeper into these demons," he suggested.

Cruz didn't reply for a few seconds, but after he continued staring at her, she finally reacted. "Wait, you're asking for my opinion?"

"You're a part of me now, aren't you?" he retorted. "Come to think of it, can we even communicate outside of… whatever this place is?"

He gestured around them both, at the platform they stood on. Once upon a time, he had relearnt what it meant to be a Revenant, and now here they were conversing as a pair that dwelled within the same body… or something like that, at least.

Yakumo always said that interesting things happened to him.

"I think so," Cruz spoke after a moment of consideration. "I'm not dormant in the way I had been after the relics were separated from one another. You heard my singing, earlier. I don't see a reason why it shouldn't be possible."

Good. At least he would have a familiar face (well, _voice)_ with him.

"Well?" he asked, after the silence had stretched just a little too long. "What do you think?"

She nodded, then hesitated, clearly wanting to say _something_, but didn't speak further.

Revan sighed. She needed to stop thinking of herself as the Queen, and to start seeing herself as Cruz Silva.

"What is it?"

"Well…" she began hesitantly. "I have a request…"

Ah. He thought he knew where she was going with this.

"Let me guess: save everyone?" he guessed. Her eyes sparked with a complicated emotion he couldn't decipher, and he continued. "We'll try. We need to learn more about these demons and how they relate to Revenants, as well as what happened to those of us from Vein, along with _everything_ that happened in the thousand years we've been asleep, but we'll save human lives where we can."

He was planning to do that, anyway. He could just barely remember the carnage in the village that came from the demon, and some fragments of how he had killed countless humans in the Vestige he'd glimpsed even _before_ he had been transformed.

If other demons were like that, it went against everything Louis fought for. Beyond the fact that he couldn't just stand idly by knowing that all that was occurring, there was a good chance he might come across some of his old friends along the way. Perhaps with his intervention and the blood beads that came with the Queen's power, he could convince just a few of these demons to stop feasting on human blood.

"Thank you," Cruz said sincerely. "Really, thank you."

He held a hand out, and she looked at it curiously.

"Partners?" he prompted.

Understanding dawned, and she grasped it in a firm handshake.

"Partners," she agreed.

A few seconds later, the platform cracked and fractured, as the world spun and shifted. He could feel his cells reforming, flesh being knit together, and he quickly took a look around at where he had been regenerated.

He knew this place well. He'd been here what felt like a few hours ago.

'_This place…'_ he heard Cruz's voice in his mind.

Good, then. They could still communicate.

_We're back in the Crypt_, he thought. Was that enough to converse with Cruz?

It was, apparently.

'_The mistle is still blooming,'_ she pointed out.

True enough, he could see the crystalline plant just behind him. Its mysterious properties had likely accelerated his rebirth by collecting and condensing the mist he had become.

'_There are more blood beads, now,' _Cruz added helpfully. '_If we count how many have grown, we might be able to estimate how long your revival took._'

Already, he was thankful to have her around. Normally, Louis was the one who made reasonable suggestions like that in their little group.

And God forbid he ever listen to one of Yakumo's suggestions. He'd probably tell Revan to cut down the plant and count the number of non-existent rings in its trunk or something.

Twelve blood beads. There had only been three left after the five he had taken. That meant –

'_Three months, give or take,'_ Cruz estimated before he could do the same.

_That long?_ Normally, it took only a day at the most.

'_You were close to a frenzy. It's a wonder it didn't take longer.'_

Fair point. He plucked more of the blood beads and placed them in his pouch, then took a moment to return to the throne and take a look at Io, but she was just as unmoving as she had been before. No luck in that aspect, then.

He made his way out of his Crypt, pausing momentarily at the small collection of his companions' weapons by the entrance. He sighed, then picked them up one by one, moving them over across the bridge toward where Io stood.

If anyone dared to pilfer them, he would _personally_ hunt them down.

When that was finally done, he left his Crypt, returning to the ruined temple just beyond the cluster of trees. Once more, it was night time, and the stars were out in full view. Iceblood and Brodiaea were secured on him, alongside the collection of blood beads that should hopefully sate his thirst until he next found another mistle.

_Any suggestions of where to go?_

He had the very distinctly bizarre sensation of Cruz shrugging, and had no idea of how to express that in any tangible words. Best not to dwell on that line of thought.

People said that even simple confusion and thinking too hard could drive one to become a Lost, after all.

He began setting off on the path leading away from the temple, the only real direction he had. Hopefully, he would wander into something interesting soon enough.

As he walked on the footpath that had long-since fallen out of maintenance, he could hear Cruz faintly humming in his head.

Come to think of it, Louis did mention at one point that Cruz had loved to sing before everything else that came with being the Queen had caught up around her. Her rendition of the hymn that Eva sung to all the frenzied Successors she and Jack came across had managed to pierce through the veil of bloodthirst when he was close to frenzying. He listened more carefully, picking out the lyrics of her song.

'…_Though I may be weary and battered,  
body in tatters,  
I will go on again and rebuild this frail world…'_

He couldn't help it, he snorted with amusement, bursting out into audible laughter.

Abruptly, Cruz fell silent.

_I don't need a _theme song_, Cruz_, he mentally communicated. He felt a wave of embarrassment emanating from the girl in him – and wasn't that a complicated thought? – as she quickly denied ever having done so.

_Sorry. Keep singing,_ he encouraged. _Louis always said you had a nice voice._

That embarrassment deepened, but after several moments of him walking in silence and wondering if he had gone a little too far in his teasing, the humming restarted. Now, the words were more audible, spoken with more confidence, and he smiled faintly to himself.

They continued that way, Queenslayer and Queen dwelling within the same body, both containing a power that would have consumed each of them individually.

As time passed, he was inclined to agree with Louis. Cruz _did _have a beautiful voice.

At some point, he asked just what song it was that she was singing. She told him that it was an original composition, one that she had just come up with on the fly. As they walked through the night, she finally decided on a title that suited her piece.

'Amber Journey', huh?

Quite an apt description of them both, really. They were finally out of the amber, and the world awaited them.

* * *

**(insert anime-style outro)**

**...for those unfortunate enough to read my other ToB/KnY fanfic, you can probably tell I've got a favourite character.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Seems like more people than I thought are coming into this fic knowing only one of the two fandoms. Hopefully, the story remains coherent while working from a third person limited perspective.**

**For those coming in from Code Vein, I'm making some slight adjustments to how certain elements work, notably Blood Veils, some bits of Gifts and Blood Codes, and the circumstances leading to Vestige formation. Because I'm too lazy to properly structure a plot, of course.**

**With that said, here's another two chapters, repeating the exact same plot beats from the previous chapter because I can't write to save my life! Hope you enjoy! **

* * *

– _before – _

She gasped, bolting upright, her breath catching as a spike of pain shot through her body at the sudden action. She looked around wildly, her hand reaching over to draw her katana to strike at the demon who had attacked the village –

"Kanae! You're awake!"

That voice –

She felt herself being embraced tightly, and after the disorientation had left her, everything that had happened came rushing back to her.

She was alive.

"Shinobu," she tried saying, but it came back as a hoarse whisper.

"Don't speak," Shinobu urged, softly pressing her hand down against her chest, pushing her back into a lying position. "You were very severely injured. You shouldn't be moving around."

"How… long?" she managed to force out.

"You were unconscious for two weeks, sister," her voice cracked. "We thought… we thought we were going to lose you…"

"Kanae…" Aoi's voice came from the side. She tried to turn to face her, but flinched at the pain that the action brought.

"Your ribs are fractured," Shinobu half-sobbed, half-scolded. "Don't struggle!"

"Shinobu… Aoi…" she said slowly, twisting around agonisingly slowly. "Sumi, Kiyo, Naho… you're all here…"

She closed her eyes tightly, tears threatening to leak out. Thank the Gods. She hadn't been forced to depart from their side.

"Kanae!" She felt herself being promptly tackled by the youngest trio, her clothes dampening underneath where their faces snuggled into her side. "We were all so worried…"

"Big sister is fine, everyone," she said as comfortingly as she could. In her view, she could see the three of them sobbing openly, while Shinobu's and Aoi's eyes were reddened. "Kanao… is Kanao here too?"

Slowly, she heard the sound of shuffling footsteps, as her adoptive sister and student came up to her side, uncertainty clear across her face.

"Come on over, Kanao," she encouraged weakly. "I've missed all of you."

Her sister took tentative steps over to her. Though there were no tears streaming from her eyes, Kanae could feel the worry emanating from her all the same.

"I won't be leaving any of you," she declared weakly, and felt the hands around her tighten. Even Kanao had shyly moved to hold her hand in hers, without flipping the coin Kanae had passed to her to make the decision. She closed her eyes tightly, the tears coming in full force now. "Big sister will always be here for you."

For several long minutes, they remained silent, communicating through the slightest of tugs and firmest of embraces, before finally breaking apart.

Hah, she was a mess. They all were.

"What happened?" she finally asked, once she got her emotions under control once more. "I remember fighting that demon… and then that other demon showed up and –"

The song. The demon had regained control, and stopped himself from killing her just before his claw would have pierced through her heart. For a whole minute, he had struggled against himself, as that melodious voice seemed to come from all around him.

His eyes had returned to their normal dull red. The blackened veins had receded. The purple mist had vanished.

Then –

_He died._

_No. It couldn't be._

"Kanae!" Shinobu placed a firm hand on her shoulder, shaking her out of her thoughts.

"The other demon," Kanae urged hurriedly. "The one that saved me. What happened to him?"

"There was only one demon there," Shinobu said slowly. "I killed him before he could finish you off. His body vanished into dust after I stabbed him…"

_No…_

A cold sensation gripped her heart. Dread? Loss? Emptiness? She squeezed her eyes tighter, fighting against the tears that were threatening to reform.

After so long, she had finally found proof that there might be hope for demons and humans to coexist. A demon had saved her from another of his kind, but then…

"Kanae?"

"He protected me," her voice croaked hollowly. "He attacked the Upper Moon Two. He forced him to retreat."

She felt the grip of the others tighten as they flinched at her mention of just _who_ she had been facing. She could still see it all. Those twin fans of his, that utter lack of emotion in his eyes, and then his past as a human that the nameless demon had somehow revealed to all three of them.

"That can't be true…" Aoi's voice trailed off.

Kanae didn't reply immediately.

"All demons are evil," Shinobu said bravely, although she sounded as though she doubted the conviction in her own words. "You must be mistaken, sister."

"He stopped himself from eating me," she whispered. "He ordered me to run away."

For a few seconds, they were all silent.

"You're saying that I –"

Shinobu didn't finish her sentence. Kanae nodded weakly.

She didn't even get a name to remember him by.

"That's impossible…"

Kanae couldn't spare the energy to convince her sister otherwise. It didn't seem like she needed much convincing, anyway, since she had promptly fell onto her knees, as though her legs had lost all strength. Kanae clutched her hand as tightly as she could.

"The villagers," she finally said once she felt ready. "Did any of them survive?"

"There were a few that hid away," Shinobu answered quickly, eager to put her mind onto other matters. "They heard the sound of fighting, but didn't see either of the demons themselves."

At least a few lives were saved, her own included among them. Thank the Gods.

She couldn't dwell on the loss of this selfless demon that fought against his very nature forever. There were other matters she had to attend to; important information to convey to the others.

"Shinobu," she said firmly, and her sister looked at her alertly. "Can you relay a message to Master Ubuyashiki?"

"Oh… about that…" she said, scratching her head awkwardly. "The Master has been here nearly every day since you were brought in…"

Kanae smiled fondly, lying back down against the bed. Kagaya Ubuyashiki was truly one of a kind. The concern he showed for every member of the Corps, from the lowest of Mizunoto to each of the Hashira was unparalleled.

"Will you show him in when he next arrives, please?" she asked. "I have important information to tell him and the rest of the Corps."

Shinobu nodded readily, a familiar fire in her eyes. "Of course."

She shot her sister a grateful smile, adjusting her position slightly as she closed her eyes. Her injuries were slowly but surely healing, and with the help of her breathing techniques the process should be sped up now that she was conscious once more.

"We'll leave you to rest," Shinobu said abruptly, standing up from her side. "Please recover soon, Kanae."

Sumi, Kiyo and Naho still seemed reluctant to leave, but with a final affectionate rub of each of their heads, they finally left the room alongside the others, and Kanae could finally have a moment to process her thoughts in private.

It just…

It just wasn't _fair._

All of them had their lives ruined by demons, their families slaughtered, steeling their conviction to join the Demon Slayer Corps. For so long, she had thought that her dream of coexisting peacefully with demons would be just that – a dream, and now at the first sign that something like that could be possible…

Without the others seeing her, there was no need to put on a brave front. The floodgates opened, and the tears came freely.

The demon had protected her when he didn't need to. Even if what he wanted was to kill Doma, he had used his energy on that Blood Demon Art that formed a barrier around her to protect her when she wasn't able to dodge. With the speed he had demonstrated, he was more than capable of dodging the attack while leaving her to die.

He had prioritised her safety over battling the other demon, and they had repaid his kindness with his death.

She didn't know how long she had wallowed in that state of self-hatred and emptiness, but eventually the door to the room she had been placed in opened once more.

Master Ubuyashiki entered, and she quickly made to sit upright –

"Please relax, Kanae," he said with gentle warmth, his kind hands pushing her back down with a surprising amount of force. "I'm truly glad that you're still alive and with us."

Raw emotion leaked into his voice, and she knew just why every member of the Demon Slayer Corps was willing to lay their lives down for their cause. Kagaya Ubuyashiki never once saw himself as being in a higher position than them.

"Master," she greeted. "You didn't need to come all this way to see me."

He chuckled. "I still have a few years before my curse robs me of my mobility, Kanae," he said. "I'd like to make use of these legs while I still can."

"Don't say that!" she scolded hurriedly. "You'll live to a ripe old age, I'm sure of it!"

"You always were far too kind, Kanae," he said with a warm smile. "All of the others were so relieved when Shinobu relayed to us that your condition was stable."

"I'm relieved too," she admitted, but then quickly reminded herself of just what it was she needed to tell him, and began to speak seriously. "I have important information that I need to tell you, Master."

"Oh?" He regarded her carefully, and yet remained completely patient. "I'm all ears. Please, speak when you are ready."

Immediately, she launched into her report. "Upon receiving word of the attack, I quickly made my way to the village," she began saying. "There, I encountered a demon wielding a pair of fans who utilised potent ice-based Blood Demon Arts. From the words engraved on his eyes, I determined him to be the Upper Moon Two."

The Master nodded firmly, acknowledging her words, but did not interrupt.

"I engaged him in combat, but proved to be sorely outmatched. He was holding back for several minutes, before finally making use of a single Blood Demon Art that left me severely injured." She grimaced slightly as she recalled how heavily outclassed she had been. Doma had just been toying with her, only becoming serious once it was clear that daybreak would soon set in. "It was then that a second demon arrived."

She paused momentarily, trying to put what she had felt from him into words.

"He wasn't like other demons. He ran from a long distance away, I think, based on how loud and quickly he had decelerated once he found us both. They both exchanged a few words, and the Upper Moon revealed his name to be Doma. Then, the other demon attacked Doma."

Ubuyashiki's lavender eyes widened slightly at that statement, but he still waited patiently for her to continue.

"He saved me," she admitted, the words sounding so empty and hollow in her own throat, knowing just what fate befell the demon. "He wielded a sword, and seemed to have a variety of Blood Demon Arts, ranging from creating shards of ice to launching an explosion of fire. When Doma released his own ice blades to attack us, he shielded me with a spherical red barrier the colour of blood and a second shield of ice that stopped Doma's attack completely."

She could see the look of deep consideration in the Master's eyes. No doubt he was looking ahead, foreseeing the end to this story, since the demon was not currently with them.

"From there, he soon used a different technique, and released a metallic stinger from his back that pierced through Doma's heart. A few seconds after that, something strange happened."

"Strange, how?" he prompted, after a few seconds of silence.

"I was… I found myself in an empty corridor. My wounds had vanished," she recalled. "I saw Doma's _past._"

"What?" For the first time, the Master sounded confused.

"He was born as the son of a leader of a cult, and was worshipped by his followers." She remembered the words that rang in her ears, confessions from Doma himself. "He… he was a monster. He lacked all empathy. He killed his followers."

"Kanae…" the Master spoke supportively.

"I saw him turn into a demon," she said simply. "I saw _him. Muzan."_

"What?!"

"He looked entirely human. He was a man in his late twenties, with pale skin, curly black hair, and sharp eyes with cat-like pupils. He gifted Doma with some of his blood, and transformed him into a demon."

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. Kanae readied herself for the remaining portion of her report.

"No one has seen Kibutsuji Muzan in the flesh in hundreds of years," the Master finally said. "I believe that he is capable of changing his appearance at will, but such information will be invaluable to all of us. Thank you, Kanae."

"There is more," she said, steeling herself. "At the end of those memories, I exited from the corridor through a large, glowing gate, and found myself back in the village. Doma retreated since daybreak was approaching, but the other demon seemed to be losing control of himself. He – his eyes were glowing, and there was a purple mist surrounding him."

She paused for a second. "He was about to eat me," she said softly. "His eyes looked like a feral creature, but he struggled and stopped himself. And I heard – I heard _singing._"

"Singing?"

She nodded, and began to recite the words, likely butchering them entirely, seeing as she couldn't decipher their meaning at all.

"It's Latin," the Master said once she was done. "The lyrics are in Latin."

"You can understand them, Master?" she pounced upon the opportunity. "Please, what do they mean?"

He took a moment to consider his words, before beginning his translation.

"_Sin, sin, Queen in the midst of Sin,_  
_weakened and frail, bearing poisoned blood._  
_Contain, persist, and remain strong,_  
_for within is bestowed divinity,_  
_and change the future to a satisfactory one." _

Immediately after that translation, he added on quickly. "I've added some additional translations and links for it to make sense, but I believe that is the rough meaning of that song."

Sin? A Queen? Poisoned blood? Divinity?

What did any of that even _mean_?

"Somehow, once that song started, he seemed to be more in control of himself," she mused aloud.

"If I may suggest a hypothesis?" Master Ubuyashiki came forward humbly. "From what you have told me, I believe that this Queen refers to himself."

"He's male –" she blurted out before she could stop herself, and fought down her embarrassment as the Master chuckled quietly.

"It could be referring to a Queen in the figurative sense," he suggested. "If those words controlled his bloodthirst, then perhaps they could indeed be referring to him. Of course, I could be entirely off the mark."

Hah. He was _never _wrong. Once he said something, even if he claimed that it was guesswork, it almost certainly would later turn out to be true.

"I trust your judgement, Master," she said respectfully. "Even still… even if he's this Queen, he died, Master. Shinobu's katana pierced his neck. The Wisteria poison must have killed him, because I saw his body vanish."

The Master frowned, deep in thought. She waited impatiently, hoping that he would have some insight that neither her nor Shinobu had seen, but…

"I'm afraid I don't know if he's still alive, Kanae," he said gently, with an undercurrent of sorrow. "I'm sorry. I know how much this must mean to you, since you always hoped for a world where both demons and humans could live in peace…"

"I know," she sighed, exhaling deeply. "I know. It's just… it's so hard to accept it, Master. The one good demon that I've been searching so hard for, and we ended up killing him."

He nodded in sad agreement, and they lapsed into silence, his presence entirely supportive.

Then, when he sensed that she had calmed down once more, he withdrew two small items from inside his kimono. She focused on them carefully.

"Shinobu recovered these items from the village. She mentioned that they were on the ground next to where she found you," he said. "Do you know what they are?"

She remembered. Right after the demon had regained control of himself and the mist had faded, he had reached into the pouch by his waist, and withdrew those two objects.

"The demon drank the liquid inside it," she said. "It seemed to help calm him down. He was halfway through the second when Shinobu arrived –"

_And killed him,_ they both understood the unsaid words.

"Your sister has performed some analysis on these objects," he said, and she listened attentively. Shinobu was always excellent at pharmaceutics. "She believes that the liquid within is similar to blood."

"Blood?"

"It perplexes her," he said, a smile on his face. "It seems to be both human, and yet not. Chemically, it behaves as blood does, but it is also different in many other ways. I believe it vexes Shinobu."

She could imagine that. Shinobu always hated uncertainty, and loved getting to the bottom of things once she found a suitable challenge.

"The casing itself seems to be crystalline in nature, although it is different from any crystal or glass she knows of."

"How did he find these, then?" she asked aloud. "Do you think he made them himself?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "With your permission, I would like to find and ask a… friend, of sorts, for her help regarding this matter."

"Of course," she agreed readily. She was curious about who this person was, but if there was a reason why the Master had deliberately kept her identity hidden, she would not broach her privacy.

"Thank you," he said, placing them back into his garment, then seemed to hesitate over something.

"Is there anything else, Master?"

"I do not wish to bother you while you are still injured…" he said with clear worry.

"I'll be fine," she insisted. "What were you going to say?"

"I have received a few reports of a strange sort of plant growing across the country, that no one can identify," he said slowly. "It is reported to take the form of a small shrub, almost wilted, but those who have seen it say that they appeared just over a week ago. So far, six of these have been found in Japan."

"You want me to look into that matter?" Her title of Flower Hashira wasn't just for show, after all. Botany was one of her interests. "I will do just that, Master."

"Thank you," he said, patting her on the arm. "But please, Kanae, do not force yourself too much."

Actually…

"I have a request of my own, Master," she said slowly, uncertain even within herself.

"Please, go on."

"Would it be possible to take some time out of the Corps?" she asked, then added hurriedly. "Not too long - it's just – with all that has happened, I want to spend more time with my sisters and everyone else here at the Estate while I recover, work on training Kanao, and –"

"Of course, Kanae. Take all the time you need," he interrupted her rambling, his voice firm. "Whenever you feel you are ready, you can return to active duty. In fact, I would highly encourage you to take a respite and commend you for thinking of doing so. It is important to remember just what it is we are fighting for."

Then, he shot her a knowing look. "I imagine you'd like to find out more about this demon as well, and to learn if more like him exist."

…had she been that transparent?

"I…" she rasped out. "Thank you…"

"I should be thanking _you, _Kanae," he said gratefully. "You, and now this demon. Let us hope that he has somehow miraculously survived."

"Yes," she breathed. "Let's hope so."

"Please send a Kasugai crow over when you feel you are feeling better. I will send you the details regarding this plant shortly." He patted her on the hand again, a comforting gesture, just as her father would have done years ago. "Rest well, Kanae."

He bowed – _bowed!_ – to her, and took his leave.

She had thought that meeting and reporting her information would help provide answers for the uncertainty she had. All she had now were even more questions.

-o-o-o-

– _now _–

The demon continued running, sending fearful looks behind him every few paces. Even with the enhanced physical abilities that came with his transformation just scarcely days ago, his lungs still burned with exhaustion at the prolonged chase.

He heard the swing of a blade, and one arm was parted from the torso.

Still, _he continued running._

To no avail; a second later, with another _whoosh_ of air, sword sliced cleanly through both his legs, and he tumbled painfully to the ground.

'_It was just one human!' _Fear and frustration raged in his mind. '_I was famished! There wasn't anything else I could –'_

A figure wearing a dark black uniform stepped slowly toward the downed and cornered demon, and separated head from torso without any trace of emotion with a single swing of his blade.

_It's not fair! I never asked for any of this to happen! I wasn't in control of my – _

With that final word, his life was ended, and the spectral figures in the Vestige that Revan had been quietly observing halted completely, as still as statues. Just a few steps behind him in this endless corridor of memories, the mangled body that had been the first – and only – human killed by the demon after awakening from his transformation still lay illuminated by silver light.

Revan sighed tiredly, making his way past the scene, and stepped on the stairs of floating rocks that were now forming at the end of this unknown demon's Vestige. A few seconds later, he exited the gate, and found himself in the woods where his latest trail of Vestiges had led him.

'_I hate this, Cruz.' _

'…_I know.'_

He had found the first Vestige of this demon a few days ago in an abandoned house, the scent of blood never having left the scene where his family had been slaughtered. From that first Vestige, Revan learned that he alone had been transformed into a demon by the blood of a far more powerful demon.

Revan had glimpsed into the life of the human he had been. His life had been a pleasant one. Blissful, even. He had been accepted into the university in the capital after years of rigorous study and an arduous entrance examination process. His betrothed would be moving with him, and they were set to start a new phase of their life together. He had been so hopeful for a better future.

He could still see the scene from that first Vestige, when he had awoken confused and fearful, only to find that everyone in his home had been slaughtered to the last, his beloved included among them. In the Vestige, his cries of mixed rage and sorrow echoed endlessly, as the primal urges that came with his new transformation warred with his prior ideals as a human. He had fled his home, lost and directionless, and entered a nearby woods.

It was there that Revan found his second Vestige. The demon, hungry and alone, had killed a farmer who strayed too close to where he had been dwelling, and he feasted on his flesh and blood devoid of any capacity for higher thinking. It was only hours after the fact that he registered what he had been doing – and to his horror, had _enjoyed_ the taste of blood – and ran away, directionless once more.

That led to this third, and final Vestige. The Demon Slayer had chased the demon through the night, likely having caught word of the unnatural disappearance and death of the farmer, and took his time in ensuring that this demon felt fear.

'_This is the sixth trail of Vestiges we've followed, Cruz_,' he vented at the former Queen. '_Four of them deliberately killed humans under their full control. These two… they were caught between a rock and a hard place…'_

It was a cycle of hatred. Demons killed humans, survivors took up the mantle of Demon Slayers, in turn hunting down demons and preventing any true hope of reconciliation. From what he learned, an entire organisation of Demon Slayers had been set up since time immemorial, their sole purpose to end the existence of all demons.

Come to think of it, was that how he had died… what was it, four months ago? Had he been mistaken for a demon, and killed by a Demon Slayer?

Vein never had this sort of issue. With how limited the number of surviving humans were, even the most ravenous of Revenants knew that there was no sustainability to killing humans.

Revenants protected the surviving humans from the Lost, and in turn received regular supplies of blood. The arrival of the blood beads and levy system supplemented that natural supply, allowing for a truly sustainable means of coexistence. That was the system that Silva had enforced, and had been in place in Vein for as long as Revan could remember.

'_What can we do about it?'_ she replied bitterly. '_They don't have access to blood beads, and we both know what happens to Revenants who starve too long. Demons are presumably the same, from what we've seen.'_

'_I know. It's just…' _he stared at the spot where the Vestige had been, and though there was no trace of the demon remaining in the physical world, it was hard to forget the sight of the demon's final moments. '_I wish we could do more.'_

In this one month since having been revived from a death neither of them could recall any detail about, they had learnt a great several things about this land they found themselves in after an eternity of slumber. They were, apparently, now in a country known as Japan.

He tended to stay away from crowded locations. With that density of humans, even with the blood beads he had on hand, there was still a reasonable chance that he could fall to bloodthirst at any point. Besides, for the time being, his primary goal was searching for demons and their link to Revenants of Vein, which meant finding Vestiges and following their trail.

Those Vestiges had revealed a great deal of information. Demons were indeed transformed from humans through being given the blood of a powerful demon. He didn't know exactly how it was achieved – did that mean that _all _demons had Void-type blood, if they could accept the blood of another demon? Could a transformation fail? Or was this something else entirely, and he couldn't use the set of metrics that worked with Revenants to describe demon physiology?

There were other analogous areas, still. Some of the more gifted demons could employ what they termed Blood Demon Arts, which bore a remarkable similarity to Gifts that he and other revenants wielded. They feasted on human flesh and blood, and believed it to be the only way to survive and grow stronger.

He wondered, then, what effect a blood bead would have?

There wasn't much opportunity to test that line of thought. Demons were surprisingly rare, when compared to Revenants that made up the majority of the population in Vein. With how Vestiges were preserved through the sands of time, even the most recent of those from the six demons he had found was easily over a hundred years ago. Hell, the one time he had dared to directly ask for information pertaining to them, the human had thought him to be completely insane.

Demons were also unable to return from death, although they were in exchange much, _much_ more durable than Revenants. They could survive just about anything, bar their two weaknesses that Revan had come to learn of from viewing these Vestiges – sunlight, and decapitation by something known as a _Nichirin Blade_ that Demon Slayers wielded.

'_Hey,'_ Cruz spoke up, and he felt a gentle prodding within his mind. After the month he had spent with her, he stopped questioning how such a sensation was humanly possible, simply accepting it as fact. '_Cheer up! We'll find a lead for where your friends have gone soon enough!'_

Heh. Trust Cruz to be the optimistic one. He nodded, tearing his eyes away from where the Vestige had been just in front of a tree – a sapling, at the time, and now a full grown oak – and returned to the main path.

Over the past month, they had travelled a reasonable distance away from his Crypt, although they took care to ensure that they were able to navigate their way back when the time came. They had consumed one more blood bead of their existing stock, but they would eventually need to either find another mistle (a venture they still had no luck with) or procure more from the Crypt.

As efficient as it may be, he really didn't like the idea of dying just so that he could reform back at the mistle. Memory loss was annoying.

Cruz began singing yet another song, and he listened idly as he charted a course further toward the west. Having a partner around to fill the silence during these periods of travel wasn't too bad. Exchanging banter with Cruz was also always delightful, since he and his companions never had the luxury of doing so back in Vein, due to the possibility that Lost could ambush them at any time. No matter where they went, they always had to keep their eyes and ears out for threats.

This place was far more peaceful than what he was used to, even with the existence of demons, the majority of whom viewed all humans as mere fodder.

From what he understood, his Crypt lay somewhere to the south-east of the capital, and if he continued further up to the north, he would eventually enter the mountain ranges that formed the majority of the mountainous island-country. His current plan was to travel up in that direction, and hopefully find some clues as to the whereabouts of his companions. If anyone would be found in the mountains, it would be Mia and Nicola, since the former Successor of the Breath always favoured that sort of cold climate.

'_What _do_ you think about these demons, Revan?' _Cruz asked curiously, after they had walked for close to an hour. _'We've seen the lives of six of them already, and they were all remarkably different.'_

'_What I think?' _he mused. '_Four of those six, I would kill without hesitation. They remind me too much of Lost for my liking. But the other two…' _He considered his words carefully._ 'I empathise with them. We know that all six of them lost their memories upon their transformation. Bloodthirst, amnesia, and being caught in the middle of an abundance of humans is a combination for disaster.'_

He understood that well. In a way, it was almost as if they had become Lost immediately after their transformation, only to later regain some semblance of intellect. By then, there would be no hope for them to return to anything that could come close to normalcy, with Demon Slayers ever on their trail. From the Vestiges, there had also been some subtle hints that they were programmed to hunt for humans, although he had no idea how deep that motivation truly ran.

'_Mmhmm,' _Cruz hummed. _'Hopefully the blood beads will be able to help them there.'_

'_Even if we do find a demon that doesn't want to kill us immediately, we'll need to find more mistle,' _he pointed out. '_They seem to have a greater requirement for human blood.'_

A couple blood beads could sustain a Revenant for over a month, but from the memories he had seen demons could easily go through several humans' worth of blood in a single sitting and still feel famished.

'_True,'_ Cruz conceded. '_Then again, there is always a chance that blood beads could better sate their bloodthirst. We should still try and find more mistle, though. I still don't know exactly how Louis determined the flow of the bloodsprings, or what reagents he used to track the course of the bloodveins…'_

The issue clearly vexed her, partly because she apparently had a competitive streak that she kept up with Louis during her early days of experimentation in Project QUEEN. When he had first begun his studies in university and visited her at the hospital, the pair had discussed all sorts of obscure academic knowledge.

Revan still refused to acknowledge that '_There's no cure like the obscure!'_ was something that Louis' professor had ever said, despite having seen his memories first-hand. _No one_ could make such a terrible pun.

'_All I know is that he poured some yellow liquid onto the bloodspring, and the bloodveins below started to glow.'_

'_A yellow liquid, huh?'_ she asked absently. '_Perhaps some serum extract from a Successor? But no, you mentioned he had it before meeting you… maybe then something from the blood bead itself? If we take the liquid, fractionate it and centrifugate them to isolate the sera from cellular fractions –'_

And there she went again. As Revan had come to learn over the past month, whenever she faced any intellectual problem, Cruz always went off on a rant of her own, unaware that she was airing her thoughts aloud.

'_Slow down, Cruz. Breathe.'_

Well, she didn't need to breathe, but the sentiment remained.

'_I just don't understand how Louis did it,' _she huffed. '_It's so annoying!'_

…the two clearly had a _thing_ going on between them when they knew each other, not that Revan was stupid enough to pry. The last time he broached the topic, Cruz had immediately and incessantly denied any existence of romantic attraction (her words, not his) to Louis, and that outburst had been loud enough to give him a headache.

He, a Revenant, a being gifted with unnatural resilience and fortitude.

'_We'll try out your ideas later,' _he said, although he had no idea where they might even get a working centrifuge. Most of the places they had visited were technologically inferior to Vein, although to be fair they were mostly rural villages and outskirts. The capital might be something else entirely.

In the time they had conversed, they made it to a fork in the road, although he couldn't see where either led due to the trees that obscured the view of the meandering path.

He shrugged, then took the left path. For awhile, all they saw was empty road, but then –

'_Do you hear that?' _he asked.

It was faint. An irregular tapping pattern, low in pitch – too low to be the sound of footsteps, but without enough variation in intonation to be speech.

He activated a Gift that stretched his senses, pooling Ichor in his ears, modestly enhancing the sensitivity of the hair cells lining the inner ear. Now that it was louder, it sounded a little like…

_Thump. Thump._

'…_drums?'_

He moved toward the source of the sound. As he neared, making his way through the path and a small cluster of trees, he found himself standing in front of a fairly large two-storied house. That alone was no cause for much interest.

What _was _odd was the scent in the air. Even without a Gift active to enhance his sense of smell, with how sensitive Revenants were to the smell of human blood, he could distinctly discern the stale vapours of blood permeating the air.

Someone had died here, and probably quite some time ago.

Why, then, was there someone playing on a drum?

'_Cruz? Any ideas?'_

'_I'm not sure,' _she replied slowly. '_Should we investigate?'_

He nodded, stepping closer.

Abruptly, the beating ceased.

Well, guess his presence was detected. It was saying something, because with Nightstalker activated, his footsteps were deathly silent. There had to be some other means by which he was noticed.

He loosened Iceblood from his side a little, just in case an ambush was waiting. He learnt the value of a rapid draw from far too many deaths at the hands of Lost hiding _just_ behind a doorway. There was a chance that this was all some giant misunderstanding, but better to be safe than sorry.

He entered the pitch-black house, but darkness meant noth-+-ing to a Revenant. With slow, tentative steps, he continued onward. He listened to every sound in his surroundings carefully, taking care to guard against a potential ambush at each doorway.

As he passed the second room – empty, like the first – there was a single beat of the drum.

Then, the interior of the building _morphed. _Before the transformation even finished, he was already in motion.

Instinctively, he drew Iceblood, ducking low, twirling his blade around to strike at any would-be attacker, but his blade cut only into the wooden wall of the building, gouging straight through it into another room.

'_What was that?' _Cruz asked.

'_No idea. Keep watch with me.'_

The layout of the building had changed. Where there had been four rooms he had seen in the corridor that ended in a dead-end before, there were now only two, with branching paths on both sides.

In a way, it was almost like the twisting cavernous routes that some Vestiges had taken, representing the winding thoughts and memories of their owners. He sometimes still reacted to sudden changes in the metaphysical landscape of a Vestige when caught off-guard.

The next two rooms were empty, although he had expected an attack from one of the two rooms placed directly opposite one another. He frowned. It would have been a perfect opportunity for an ambush, so why…

Another beat of the drum, and the interior changed once more.

Once was a coincidence. Twice was enemy action.

The actual saying was probably less paranoid, but those who let their guard down in a situation like this were the same ones who died enough times to become Lost.

He kept Iceblood held out, not bothering to place it back. In his mind, he ran through possible options for when an inevitable attack came – considerations for melee and ranged combat, armoured and unarmoured opponents, a solitary foe or a group. Preparation was essential in every fight.

Again, as he advanced, the building morphed.

Now, he understood. It was a disorientation tactic. The sound of the drums came from a different direction each time, and if his conjecture that the house moved in relation to whoever was playing the instrument was correct, then…

Another few steps; another change of architecture.

It was masterful work. There was seemingly no pattern to where the drum beat came from, or where he would end up. The corridor always had a different design. The note was always just slightly different.

There was just one flaw to it.

The slash that had been carved into the wall remained there even after the building shifted, reappearing in his vicinity after the layout had been rearranged several times. It wasn't so much that the house was being reformed into something entirely new each time, but rather one of several possibilities.

He was either being physically transported in space, or the house itself was rearranging each time but retaining its original state, or the partitions within the house were changing and giving the illusion of sound coming from different directions.

Time to test those hypotheses. Casually, in a way that roused as little suspicion as possible, he allowed his sword to nick at a wall just slightly as he moved onward.

The interior changed. No nick.

Interesting. So it was either teleportation or a continual rearrangement of the building into something entirely unique each time, rather than a change in the partitioning.

Whoever was responsible for this was _good._

Unfortunately for him, Revan had previously had to deal with the labyrinthine maze that was the Cathedral of the Sacred Blood.

'_Revan?' _Cruz spoke up. '_Do you have a plan?'_

'_Yeah. Just watch.'_

Physical dimensions of the building probably couldn't change. Two storeys was the limit in height. He hadn't had a good look at the house from the outside, but he could do a rough approximation of the length and width of the building.

If so…

It was then that there was a change in the rhythm. This time, the room spun _sideways_, the walls becoming the roof and ceiling. He landed on his feet reflexively, high on the alert for any attack.

'_What –' _Cruz exclaimed, startled.

None came. His unseen enemy was being extraordinarily patient. Whoever he was, he was using what he assumed was a Gift with utmost mastery, keeping his foe disoriented. This had to be the work of a demon, unless humans of this world had somehow managed to find a way to utilise Ichor.

He used the small scratch he had carved before as a reference point. The floor was now what had been the right wall.

Rotation, and transformation or teleportation. It stood to reason that he could do them simultaneously.

Revan would need a method to orientate himself.

And so, Revan continued the system he had already set up. What was originally the floor bore subtle linear markings from his blade. What was the left wall had shorter punctuated scratches. The right wall was faintly marked by bloodied fingerprints from where he pretended to feel at it for direction.

The number of markings represented relative location in one plane. The height at which they were carved represented position in the orthogonal one. With that system set up, he could orientate himself easily with each change in the room.

'_You're clever, aren't you?'_ Cruz whistled, once she caught on to what he was doing. '_And here I thought you only knew how to fight.'_

'_I'll pretend that wasn't an insult,' _he retorted dryly.

The notes themselves were different, he realised. Each of them had a distinct effect, whether it was rotating the room in one of four possible directions or completely altering the architecture entirely. The former kept the relative positions of him and the demon constant, while the latter would change it completely. He would need to strike once he discerned the demon's location when the room rotated.

The demon was smart, but his folly had been allowing Revan far too much time to devise a plan against his disorientation. Now, he was more aware of the layout and dimensions of the building than before.

When next the room rotated, he would strike.

He didn't need to wait long.

_Second lowest note. Ninety degrees clockwise, centred longitudinally to the long-axis of the corridor. That meant – _

As the room was still turning, his feet were already a blur of motion, bodily _crashing _directly through walls and ceiling alike to reach the location where his adversary lay.

He saw a flash of panic and frustration cross the demon's face in the instant he realised that Revan had seen through his plan, beating the drum – the one on his back, it seemed – that teleported or completely reorganised the building, but though the room changed completely they were both moved alongside each other.

It made sense. That translocation had to be room-specific, or he would have simply performed hit-and-run tactics endlessly and wore Revan down.

"Hi," he greeted the demon who was still fighting down his surprise, Iceblood at the ready. "We finally meet."

Now that he finally came face to face with him, Revan saw that the drums were actually _part _of the demon, embedded in either shoulder and leg, and in his torso and back. His eyes were blood-red, but curiously enough there was a scratched-out word carved into one eye.

…and was that a _Vestige _over in that corner of the room?

"You!" the demon roared. "How did you see through my Blood Demon Art?! You shouldn't have been able to –"

"Oh, trust me, you were good," Revan interrupted. "If you attacked just a little bit sooner and used all five of your beats from the start, I would probably have been caught by an ambush."

The demon growled low, his palm hovering over the drum on his chest. No, not five. There were _six _drums, but only five notes that he'd heard so far.

He needed to figure out what the hitherto unseen effect of the last drum was before he could strike.

"_BEGONE, DEMON SLAYER!"_

…Demon Slayer? _Him?_

Considering he fought with a sword, Revan could understand his confusion.

'_Look out!' _Cruz warned.

The instant he beat the drum, three sharp claws formed from nothingness in the air before the demon, racing toward Revan, but…

…relatively speaking, it was slow. Many of the Greater Lost he had fought had far faster attacks.

He leapt into the air, avoiding the razor-sharp semi-composite claws comfortably. Quickly, he landed softly on his feet once more, as the wooden walls of the room behind him was rent apart from the Demon Art that the demon had used.

"GAH!"

Again and again, he beat at that drum. Again and again, Revan dodged agilely, twisting between claws. More than once, he didn't even need to _move, _with how the demon's agitation affected his aim.

Really, he had been performing much better when he had been level-headed.

He began beating at all his drums in a seemingly random pattern, the room twisting and turning around each time, with the demon remaining completely rooted in place. How convenient it was, that the power the demon wielded didn't affect himself. Revan could see plenty of practical use in such a Gift.

Still, with how frequent and randomly he was utilising his Gifts, they were interfering with one another.

The shifting of the room didn't occur instantly; each drum inspired a certain angular acceleration that needed time before reaching their full rotational velocity. Now, the direction was changing before the room had fully turned, which meant that Revan was in fact spending more time _stationary_ than actually moving compared to if he played at a slower rhythm.

By twisting his body in reaction to the movements Kyogai made, he could retain a fair semblance of mobility despite the rapid twisting and turning of the room. Within a matter of seconds, he could now comfortably predict the projected path his body would take and react to dodge the incoming claw attacks.

Even gravity, the sole constant in all of this, wasn't being allowed a chance to actually truly _displace_ Revan. With how 'downward' was being shifted multiple times a second, there simply wasn't enough time for gravitational acceleration to take a hold on him. With a rhythm of four beats per second, that meant scarcely a quarter of a second in free-fall before the room turned. The maximum velocity reached would only be two and a half metres per second, which meant the actual distance he fell within that time would be…

'_Thirty-one point two five centimetres_,' Cruz supplied helpfully. '_Under the assumptions that rotation occurs instantaneously and initial downward velocity is zero, of course. For refinement: ninety degrees of rotation finishing in point five seconds… we resolve the forces in two orthogonal axes, do some vector addition, and –'_

'_Not now, Cruz.' _

Really, he shouldn't have brought up anything even remotely academic at all. The point of the matter was that the demon was getting frustrated, agitated, and his technique was becoming sloppy. This wasn't the same calculating and carefully crafted plan that had been devised when Revan first entered the mansion.

"DIE! DIE! _DIE!"_

The demon was desperate, and it would be his downfall.

His feet touched solid ground –

The demon was moving to strike the drum on his left shoulder –

The room would spin counter-clockwise, so if he approximated and compensated for the change in gravitational acceleration relative to his present orientation –

He kicked off, angling the direction of his leap as best he could. He soared below a series of five claw attacks – the sentence sounded odd even in his head, but given that the demon was standing upside-down on the ceiling, it was factually correct – and with a single strike cut off the demon's left arm from his shoulder.

He twisted before he had even landed, and though the room turned once more from his remaining arm striking at a drum, Revan launched himself off the wall to slash at the right arm, and in mid-air he hit the drum on his shoulder twice in quick succession, just to see if it would work.

The room turned a full hundred and eighty degrees, and directionality finally made sense as the armless demon fell to the ground harshly.

Cruz whistled appreciatively.

"No… _no_!" the demon growled. Limb buds were forming from his shoulders, but full regeneration would be slow work – another several minutes' worth, at least. "This cannot be! I cannot – I will not fail him! I will not fall to a Demon Slayer!"

"I'm not a Demon Slayer, actually," Revan said calmly, his blade ready to strike at a moment's notice. "I'm like you, in a way."

"What?" the demon's eyes narrowed, as he still struggled futilely to regenerate his arms. "You're a demon?"

"Not quite, but close enough," Revan said, shrugging. "Let's have a chat."

After a month of fruitless ventures, he really didn't want to have to find a way to kill this demon just yet. If he was amenable to discussion, Revan had many things he still wished to learn about.

"You come here – into _my _home – cut off my arms – and you want to _chat?_" the demon asked disbelievingly. "And you… I don't sense a trace of _him_ in you. You're lying! You're no demon!"

"To be fair, you tried killing me first," Revan retorted. "Good technique though, even if it became sloppy nearer the end."

"You dare insult –"

"I'm not insulting you," Revan said, stepping closer, the position of his blade at a compromise between non-threatening and his regular paranoid _everything-can-kill-you _defensive stance_. _"If you ambushed me right after I entered, before I figured out how your Gift –" He paused, then corrected himself. "– Blood Demon Art worked, you probably could have hit me."

"You…" the demon mellowed down slightly, now that he wasn't immediately moving to attack. That, or he was simply baiting Revan in, and waiting for his arms to regenerate so that he could strike.

"Now, then," Revan said, stepping over to what had caught his interest. "Don't mind me."

With casual ease, a claw materialised around his arm, its composition equal parts metal, ichor and blood.

"You're a_ demon_ –"

Before he could finish whatever expression of incredulity he was making, Revan dug his claw deep into the Vestige, and the room vanished, as both its occupants were flung into the past memories of an unknown demon.

-o-o-o-


	4. Chapter 4

**Kyogai did nothing wrong!**

* * *

For the first time, Kyogai felt fear at someone other than Kibut – no, at someone other than _him._

(_Don't say his name. Don't _think _of his name.)_

The plan had been simple. He had smelled the scent of blood; strong, intoxicating blood. It wasn't marechi, but it was something close. Perhaps something _greater_.

He knew, without a doubt, that if he killed this travelling swordsman and ate his flesh and blood, he would become strong. Strong enough to serve _him_, strong enough to be acknowledged, and strong enough to be trusted and valued by him once more as one of his Twelve Moons.

The swordsman had been strangely calm during the time he fell into Kyogai's trap, continually moving forward, occasionally feeling at the walls around him. Kyogai had thought him to be a fool, putting on an act while misunderstanding just how his Blood Demon Art worked, when all along it had been he who had underestimated the swordsman.

Right when it seemed that the swordsman would have been disoriented, his stance had suddenly changed, and he launched himself directly at Kyogai, even though he shouldn't have had any way of knowing where he was. Kyogai had purposely kept to a random distance and direction away from the swordsman the entire time, and there was no way that he should have _known_.

How could he have figured out all of Kyogai's techniques in a matter of _minutes?_ How could he have been so powerful?

Then, when he revealed that claw of his, that line of thinking changed.

How could he be a _demon?_

He didn't even have the mark of any of the Twelve Moons. Was this… was this one of _his_ tests? Was he here to see if he deserved his place among the Twelve? If he deserved the blood that had been gifted unto him?

Had Kyogai failed him once more? He had tried everything – _everything_ – to be worthy of his praise, but no matter how many more humans he killed he just _wasn't growing stronger. _Regular blood didn't even sate him anymore, with the last human he killed being from months ago when that man tried entering his house, thinking that there were things of value to be stolen.

He needed _marechi,_ he knew fervently. Marechi was what would make him powerful.

He had been about to try and attack the demon-swordsman when he had foolishly turned his back to Kyogai, biting and gnawing on his flesh if need be, when the swordsman had suddenly grasped at mid-air with his claw. There had been a burst of bright light from nothing, and when his vision cleared, the room had vanished entirely.

No, not vanished. It had been replaced.

He was standing in the same room, only now many times dimmer. The air here felt strange, oddly still, as though there was no airflow. He growled, moving his arms toward the tsuzumi on his body in case of an attack –

Wait. Why were his arms back in place? Why were his tsuzumi _missing_?

What had the other demon done?

Then, suddenly, there was a rush of air, a silver flash moving past him, and when he turned around, he found himself face to face with a young adolescent kneeling on the ground, staring up at an older man.

He… he looked familiar…

"_I am disappointed."_

"_I can do better!" _the younger boy protested immediately. "_Give me another chance! I will sit the examination again, and –"_

"_And do what?!" _the older man roared, tossing a stack of papers into the air, as they scattered into the wind. "_Fail again? This family has supported your silly ideas long enough! Your brother clearly inherited all of my talent! All the best tutors, all the best books, and you still fail to impress the scholars at the academy!"_

"_I'm three years younger than the students there –"_

"_Your brother made it in when he was even younger than you!" _The man picked up a piece of paper, filled with writing that Kyogai couldn't discern from where he was standing, scoffing loudly. "_'On the Value of Science in the Tokugawa Shogunate'?" _he quoted sarcastically. "_What we need now are artists! Poets! Men of culture, not some fool with delusions of grandeur! We are of the samurai, a noble caste! We adhere to the bushi traditions! We do not need this – this 'refinement of the process to create gunpowder'!"_

The Shogunate? That was a time long past, anywhere from fifty to two hundred years ago –

"_But –"_

"_Enough!" _the man roared. "_This decision is final! You may stay in this house, that you do not sully our family name, but as head of this family I will not stand by and watch you bring shame to us all! Read your books in your room, but do not ever think to present rubbish like this ever again!"_

Just as suddenly as they appeared, the two figures vanished into nothingness, and the room was thrown into bright light.

What had just happened?

And that boy… that man… Kyogai knew them…

…but from where?

Without warning, one of the doors of the wall slid open, an invitation to proceed on to the next room.

High on alert, his mind ablaze with questions, Kyogai continued forward.

It was another room, and one he knew well. It didn't make sense, though. He knew the layout of his house. The room he had been in previously shouldn't have been connected to this one…

Two men materialised into being. Now prepared for this sudden event, Kyogai didn't flinch.

"_Father is dead," _one man told the other. "_I am now head of this family."_

The younger adult stayed silent, his head bowed, but Kyogai thought he saw a flash of anger in his eyes.

"_There will be a change in our arrangements," _the older brother spoke. "_I am revoking access to your books to someone more deserving of their contents. You may stay in your room, and do as you wish."_

He continued remaining silent.

"_Am. I. Clear?" _

"…_understood, brother," _he finally forced out.

The scene faded. He knew who this was, now.

It was _him. _He had forgotten how his father had looked like, but his brother he knew well.

Why had he been thrown into these old memories from a time he had been human?

Before he could consider that line of thought any further, the tatami floors below him opened up, and he felt himself falling down, landing within the space of less than a second in another room.

This, he remembered.

Kyogai was kneeling before his brother, his head bowed, expression completely hidden. Though there was no visual indication of his emotions, he still remembered well what he had been feeling at the time.

_Hate. Anger. Resentment. Indignation. Jealousy. _They had belittled him at ever since he had been a child, and praised his brother because he could recite ancient drivel some scholar from ages past had written. They clung to the old ways, and couldn't _see_ beyond what tradition dictated.

His master had been different. He had seen value in himself, in his mind and talent, and offered to transform him into a demon. It was then, that Kyogai knew that he would serve Kibutsuji Muzan to the best of his ability.

"_Didn't father tell you to stop writing?"_ his brother asked dryly. "_Looking at it now, I understand why."_

They had gone into his room when he hadn't been around, and ransacked the secret drawer he had kept all of his writings since the day he had been forced to give up his dreams. He remembered how he had gritted his teeth, listening as his brother gloated just as he was currently being forced to see once more.

"'_On the Existence of Demons, Reflections on a Futile Cycle, and a Theory of Blood'? Not just boring and inelegant, but insane as well? Is this what you have become, Kyogai?"_

It had been his latest and secret documentation, experimenting on his own blood to see just what it was that made demons who they were. After having been given _his_ blood and awakening as a demon without any memory of just what had happened beyond knowing of his existence, Kyogai simply couldn't sit by and leave such a mystery unexplored.

"_Give up on writing, brother. I don't know how you kept this secret from us for years, or where you found parchment and ink, but give up."_ The man shook his head. "_You have no talent for this. Play the tsuzumi if you want, but only in the house. Even in that, you're not good enough to share with other people."_

He remembered how the rage had boiled over. He saw in front of his eyes how the still newly-transformed demon struck at the tsuzumi on his chest, his bloodshot eyes finally opened, as his Blood Demon Art severed his brother into four unequal pieces, ending his life instantly.

It was the first life Kyogai had ever taken.

He remembered how he had cried tears of paradoxical mixed sorrow and joy, at finally standing up for himself for once. He remembered how he had eaten his brother's flesh and blood, and truly began his life as a demon.

He remembered, how he had never once again engaged in writing.

The scene ended there, Kyogai hunched over his brother's corpse, his hands reaching deep within a part of his brother's torso.

And yet, he did not yet return to the present. Another door slid open, but the interior was pitch-black.

He entered the room, walking up to the very centre.

All of a sudden, it became the middle of night, the sound of chirping crickets reaching his ears. A younger Kyogai – a _human _Kyogai – sat in the guest lounge of his home, alone. Then, after a few seconds, a door opened, and his brother entered the room, a second man by his side.

Kyogai recognised him.

It was his master. It was him.

This memory, one he had lost, was where he had become a demon.

"_Master Akiyama will be staying with us for the night_," his brother spoke smoothly, elegantly, with the rich tone he reserved only for those he wished to impress. _"I must attend to other matters. Please entertain him, brother."_

Then, he strutted up to Kyogai, and whispered harshly in his ear. _"Master Akiyama has close ties with the Shogunate," _he hissed. _"Don't you even _dare_ to do anything to disrespect him or me. If my standing falls because of you, I will not show any kindness."_

His brother turned back to face Kibutsuji Muzan, bowing low. "_If you will excuse me, Master Akiyama,"_ he said politely, none of the harshness he had displayed with Kyogai.

Soon, it was just him and his future master. Kyogai stepped forward, curious as to just _how_ he had been transformed. All he remembered of the process was being gifted with his master's blood, and awakening a day later as a demon.

"_You must be Kyogai. Your brother has told me a lot about you."_

In the memory, the human Kyogai didn't respond, his head bowed low.

"_Are you a learned man as he is?" _Kibutsuji continued mildly, sipping at his tea.

Again, Kyogai remained silent.

"_Hmm. Perhaps I have wasted my time coming here, then."_

_That_ caught the attention of both the human and demon Kyogai. Even as the phantom observer, the present Kyogai leaned in closer. "_What do you mean?"_

"_Rumours have spread of a genius trapped within his own home," _his master said, a slight smile on his face. "_I believe that one such as he may be valuable to the Shogunate, hmm?"_

"_How do you know of that?!"_

"_I have my ways," _came the mysterious reply. "_Regardless, talent like yours shouldn't be left languishing around."_

"_You understand!" _Kyogai exclaimed, his hands slapping down on the tatami mat, unheeding of social decorum. "_You see what my father and brother couldn't!"_

"_Why don't you tell me about what interests you?"_

"_Tell you – I'll show you!" _Kyogai hurriedly stood up, lifting up a nearby tatami mat, and feeling for one of the several hidden compartments he had stashed his writing. "_Please! Read it! Tell me what you think!"_

"'_Applications of Metallurgy in the Present Age of Warfare?' Quite a bold title," _his master commented, peering over the papers. The younger Kyogai looked on eagerly, excitement on his face for what must have been the first time in long years.

He looked over at the pages, flipping through them one by one. When he reached the final sentence, he looked over at Kyogai impassively.

"_Impressive."_

"_You – you liked it?"_

"_I'll tell you what, child," _his future master said. "_How would you like something better? How would you like to be powerful enough to pursue any dream you wished, to escape from your brother forevermore? Would you like to make these dreams of yours a reality?"_

He gestured at the pieces of paper in his hands.

"_What do you mean?"_

"_My real name is Kibusuji Muzan," _he said, extending a hand out. _"I believe that you are the one I have been looking for. What say you, hmm?"_

"_I need to know more…"_

_His master chuckled. "I can't tell you more, I'm afraid. You need to tell me yes or no."_

"_I…"_

It took only a moment of consideration, and even in the present, Kyogai knew that there was no way he could ever decline even the slightest _chance_ of the offer holding true.

"_Yes."_

"_Good."_

Without warning, the demon swiped a hand across Kyogai's neck faster than the eye could see, and the human fell to the ground, staring at his master with wide eyes as he clutched feebly at the wound that had been inflicted.

"_What –" _he gurgled.

"_Shhh," _his master spoke. "_When you awaken, you will be a demon. You will be powerful. You can kill your brother, kill everyone who stands in your way, and take what is rightfully yours."_

"_What…" _his voice came more weakly this time. Within seconds, his head was lowered, body unmoving.

Kyogai thought the scene would end there.

It didn't.

His master's form turned blurry, features indistinct, but Kyogai heard clearly his next words.

"_What a fool."_

The words reverberated in the empty room, and Kyogai's heart ran cold.

There was the sound of paper being crushed.

There was confusion. Denial. A rising anger. A myriad of emotions blooming at once, warring with each other for dominance.

"_Hopefully, he at least has some use as a demon. As long as he kills his brother for me, he serves his purpose."_

It was only then that everyone in the room vanished, leaving Kyogai standing there, utterly stunned.

It had all been a lie.

(But why?)

From the very start, _it had been a lie._

(But _why?_)

His master had never seen value in him. He had been a tool. He had been turned into a demon, just so that he could kill his own brother.

No. It couldn't be true. It _couldn't _be true!

All the lives he had taken – all the dreams he had abandoned – every sacrifice he had made in the name of becoming stronger to serve the only one whoever realised his true potential –

It had all been a _lie_?

It couldn't be. He had become the Lower Moon Six.

But _he_ had retracted his offer soon enough –

_No. _That was because of his own weakness. He couldn't become stronger, couldn't be useful to his lord. That was why he was stripped of his position. _He_ had said that Kyogai could reclaim what was his once he proved himself to be worthy of it once more!

_It. Was. Not. True!_

It was not true…

He didn't know how long he stood there, alone, even though the room had long since faded away into a long and narrow metallic walkway, ending in a series of floating steps to a massive open gate.

-o-o-o-

Revan was… conflicted, to say the least.

On the one hand? Kyogai's life had been a tragedy. In any other society, he would have flourished. Hell, even in Vein, with that level of industry and curiosity in a wide array of topics that he showed in his earlier memories, there was a good chance he could have attended the university there. In another life he might even have been part of Project QUEEN, or one of many other research avenues aimed at solving the Revenant crisis.

And on the other, he had seen how Kyogai had descended down the path of a demon. He had killed his brother – perhaps justifiably, perhaps not – but Revan knew he did not stop there. The way he had eaten his brother's flesh and blood with that mix of satisfactory release and newfound conviction wasn't one that anyone could walk away from. Many Revenants had lusted after human blood after just having one single taste.

Above all, though, he had been betrayed.

Kibutsuji Muzan. Revan had a name, now. This was the so-called progenitor of demons, the demon that stood over all others.

The name sounded familiar. Had he heard of it before?

Perhaps it had been from that Vestige from when he had died a few months prior. He vaguely recalled someone looking a little like the man from Kyogai's memory.

Kyogai was just kneeling on the ground, the same scattered papers he had seen from within the Vestige strewn across the floor in front of him, displaced by the battle as they were. His arms were still slowly regenerating, but he seemed to be in a world of his own.

"It was a lie…" he uttered softly. "It was all a lie…"

The defeated demon no longer had any fight left in him. Revan eyed him carefully, a touch of pity coming to the fore. For several tens of seconds, neither of them spoke. Even when his arms had finally regenerated, Kyogai still simply knelt there, unmoving.

'_Revan?_' Cruz finally asked. _'What will you do with him?'_

'_I don't know,'_ came the honest reply.

Slowly, he moved toward the demon. Kyogai flinched slightly, as though only now remembering that he wasn't alone in the room.

"You…" Kyogai uttered, malice in his voice, but with a bitter edge. "Have you come to gloat? Have you come to prove your place among his chosen?"

"Calm down," Revan said, staying a respectful distance from the demon. He gently moved some of the scattered parchment aside, taking care to arrange them neatly as he knelt on a single knee, his weight supported by his sword. "For starters, I'm not one of this Kibutsuji Muzan's demons. I'm not even a demon at all."

"What?" Kyogai narrowed his eyes. "Impossible. I saw that Blood Demon Art –"

"I'm a Revenant," he said simply. "I don't know what demons really _are,_ but our kinds are similar enough."

"A Revenant?" he repeated, then moved to his feet, looking at Revan warily. "Have you come to kill me?"

"I kind of stumbled here by accident, really." He shrugged. "I heard the sound of your drums and the scent of stale blood from some distance away, and came to investigate."

For a moment, Kyogai continued staring at Revan, seemingly indecisive as to what his plan was. Then, his shoulders dropped, and he hung his head low.

"Do it, then. Kill me."

…that hadn't been what Revan expected.

'_What?!' _Cruz gasped.

"It was all a lie," he growled. "I fought for him. I ate humans for him. He told me… he told me he valued me… I grew strong enough to serve by his side, thinking that he valued me as one of his Twelve… _it was all a lie!"_

The final words were roared with a primal rage, loud enough to send the room shaking. He wasn't done yet, though. He turned his head up toward the ceiling, his emotions brought entirely to the fore as he yelled with abandon.

"_Curse you! Curse you, Kibutsuji –"_

It was then, that something happened.

_What the hell?!_

A massive blackened arm came _bursting_ out of Kyogai's chest, a gush of blood spilling forth alongside an unholy _squelch_, the demon's eyes with terror and realisation–

'_REVAN!'_

His body was already in motion before Cruz shouted her warning. Iceblood swung through the air, carving through the arm.

Two more sprouted from the split end, each winding and reaching out to grab at Kyogai's face. A new arm reached from within his _mouth_ with yet another explosion of blood, twisting upon itself to crush at Kyogai's head as he gasped with agony –

He swung Iceblood rapidly, slicing the limbs before they could find their mark, but each time he did so more limbs appeared. Kyogai was suffocating, gasping for air, as more and more limbs appeared from every possible anatomical location.

'_There's Ichor in them!' _Cruz identified as he severed another three arms, only for five more to spawn as though heads of the mythical hydra. "_You need to drain it all!'_

It took only an instant for him to process her discovery, and then to come up with a plan of action. Before she had even finished her sentence, he was preparing his own assault at whatever the hell was currently working at squeezing the life out of Kyogai.

"BRACE YOURSELF!" he ordered, even as Kyogai continued to struggle, grasping at the limbs that sprouted his newest orifices desperately, unable to so much as talk.

The tapering tailcoat of Revan's Blood Veil elongated, reaching down into the flooring below. He could feel it shifting and twisting, shaping itself as he willed it to, slithering forward as a phantom semi-corporeal form to the ground beneath Kyogai. Innumerable thin blades of metal that dripped a crimson liquid shot out from below, stabbing into every possible exposed location from tens of dozens of different angles, drawing Ichor from the part that was and was not _Kyogai_ as they dug into the blackened arms.

He couldn't avoid hitting Kyogai with some of the blades from his Blood Veil, of course. The _Ivy_ that sprouted from his Blood Veil tore apart both Kyogai's and the phantom attacker's Ichor, draining it back to Revan.

As soon as the arm that came from Kyogai's mouth receded, he could finally begin roaring with agony, but the work was not yet done. Until the Ichor of these mysterious arms that had tried to kill Kyogai – and could quite possibly _still_ kill him – was drained, they would only return.

When at last, both his Ichor and those of the arms were depleted, Kyogai slumped down to the ground, face-forward, groaning weakly. He had been fully drained of Ichor, but demons really were resilient beings.

"Don't move!" he urged, rushing over to his side, the tip of his Blood Veil retracting to just above his knee.

"_You… fought… him…" _he gurgled. "_Why…"_

"Don't talk!" he ordered, correcting himself. "I'm going to try something!"

Damn. He didn't know if demon physiology worked the same as Revenants, but he couldn't just stand by and do nothing now. There was no time for doubt.

He worked the Gift of Restorative Offering quickly, his own blood and Ichor intermixing in the air before his palm. Habitual use over the many battles he and his friends had watched over each other's backs made it almost second nature. The scarlet orb that trailed wisps of a red vapour was shot toward Kyogai, supplementing his lost Ichor and lifeblood.

Kyogai gasped, his back rocking upward violently, as strength returned to him. Very slowly he pushed on the ground with arms that were his own, turning over to lie on his back. His entire body and face were drenched with blood, holes from where limbs had sprouted only now beginning to heal over.

It looked like his information was incorrect. Sunlight and Nichirin Blades weren't the only ways to kill demons. Whatever the _hell_ that had been was another.

"_What…did you… do…?" _he managed to force out weakly.

"I told you, don't talk," Revan snapped.

The demon was still teetering on the edge. Hell, he didn't know if there was any way he could survive the injuries Kyogai currently faced. He prepared another Restorative Offering, supplementing the healing that the first had provided. He repeated that again, and then once more, taking care not to overtax himself.

Finally, Kyogai's flesh looked to have knitted together. At least his gamble had paid off, and he hadn't just accidentally killed Kyogai by attempting the Gift that had only ever really been tested on Revenants before. Now, then; he finally had the space to consider just what had happened.

It had been triggered by him saying Kibutsuji's name, that much was certain. The look of realisation and terror Kyogai had made told him as much.

What he didn't know was how it had been achieved, or why. He had ideas and hypotheses, but they couldn't easily be proven.

Was this Muzan so fearful of his secrets being revealed, that he would program a mechanism within his blood to kill the demons he had transformed if they so much as uttered his name? And even if that was the case, what _exactly _was this mechanism?

All Revan knew was that Ichor had a role in all this, since it had stopped as soon as the ivy-like blades of his Blood Veil drained it from the arms that had sprouted from Kyogai's body. Would the Ichor regenerate, like that produced from within a Revenant's body, or was it a finite effect, much like a Gift was?

And then there was the other curiosity. He had absorbed Kyogai's blood and Ichor through his Blood Veil, but strangely enough didn't incorporate his Blood Code. Why? He had managed to steal a peek into the Blood Code of the previous demon he fought, but Kyogai's was a complete black box. Were the equivalent of Blood Codes among demons not able to equally be absorbed into his system, despite possessing Void-type blood as he did?

"Why did you save me?"

The muted whisper interrupted his thoughts, and he looked toward Kyogai. He…

…well, he looked pitiful. He was drenched in blood, barely able to support himself on his feet, with reddened and newly-regenerated flesh covering just about his entire body. His eyes, though, burned with a fiery intensity, and Revan knew he deserved a proper answer.

"If you want the honest answer, I don't really know that myself." He sighed tiredly. "Truth be told, I… well, a friend of mine wanted a world where humans and Revenants could live together peacefully. When I found out about the existence of demons, I suppose I carried on his wish."

"Peacefully?" Kyogai said. "Impossible."

"I know." Revan smiled faintly. Many others had told Louis the same thing, but still he persisted. "Demons need human blood to continue living, or the bloodthirst consumes them. Humans resent demons for killing their families. Demon Slayers hunt demons. Sometimes, demons defeat their hunters, and sometimes the humans achieve vengeance. Am I wrong?"

He gestured at the scattered papers lying between them both, and Kyogai's eyes widened.

"You read them?"

"No," he corrected. "But I glimpsed the memory from your Vestige. Based on the title of your essay, there really wasn't any other interpretation."

"Then you know that yours is a fools dream," he spat. "You and this friend of yours."

"True," he said, shrugging. "That is, of course, based on certain assumptions."

"What?"

"That demons need blood to survive."

Wordlessly, Revan dug his hand into his pouch, withdrawing a blood bead. He threw it over casually to Kyogai, who caught it reflexively, eyeing it with both curiosity and caution.

"Drink," Revan said.

Kyogai looked at it for a second longer, bringing the dubious object closer to his nose, and then he recoiled with shock.

"This is what I sensed from you…" he breathed. "This… it is not _marechi_, but it is… it is special blood…"

Well… in a way, it was the blood of the Queen, first created through Karen's use of the power she held as the Successor of the Heart. Now, that same relic dwelled within him, so…

In a roundabout way, should he feel complimented that the demon thought his blood was special?

More importantly, though: what was this _marechi_?

"Marechi?" he asked.

"It is rare blood," Kyogai said, but his eyes never left the blood bead. "It intoxicates and weakens when smelled, but consuming it is far more valuable than regular blood…"

With trembling hands, he lifted the blood bead to his lips, and bit down on the tip of the crystalline casing of the fruit. He drank slowly, looking as though he relished the liquid within.

It was strange. Revenants always preferred human blood. Blood beads were only consumed out of sheer necessity since the regular donations of blood by protected humans in Vein were insufficient to sustain the Revenant population.

"How is it?" Revan asked curiously, once Kyogai had emptied the bead down to the last drop. This was some important information to be gathered. If blood beads could sate bloodlust for demons the same way it could for Revenants, then there could be hope for a peaceful coexistence between humans and demons.

"It is amazing…" Kyogai uttered, studying his limbs, although Revan couldn't see anything that had changed in them. "I… I feel _different_…"

"Different how?" he probed. Kyogai didn't quite know how to answer, staring at his own arms.

"I can't describe it," he said after several moments, looking back toward Revan. "It… I feel less hungry, and my mind… it feels – it feels different…"

"It sates bloodthirst?" he cut to the heart of the matter.

"Not just that," Kyogai said, frowning. "My thoughts… I feel like – like myself, again…"

Altered thoughts? Why should a blood bead cause that effect?

Suddenly, Cruz gasped. He stiffened slightly, hands tightening around his sword, ready to swing at whatever had startled Cruz, when she growled softly.

'…_that monster.'_

It clicked.

"Muzan?" Revan posited aloud, addressing both Cruz and Kyogai.

"He… he changed how I thought?"

'_By his own admission, he wanted to make use of Kyogai to kill off his brother for whatever reason he had,' _Cruz continued, her words coming out in a rush of indignation. '_He has already demonstrated an ability to remotely kill any demon who says his name. It isn't unfeasible to think that his transformation could modify their inherent thought biases.'_

'_Isn't that stretching a little, though?' _he countered, even though his gut feeling was that Cruz was right. '_A Gift that could lie dormant and activate on saying a certain phrase like one of my trap-gifts is feasible enough, but this is on another level entirely.'_

'_Revenants have our own biases too,' _she replied immediately. '_Have you ever known a Revenant who didn't _fight_? To begin with, our creation was meant to combat the Horrors. The experiments on the BOR parasites revealed that any creature reanimated by them had a certain propensity toward combat and bloodshed. We live, we fight, we die, and we are reborn to fight again."_

…damn.

"Then… the reason why I never wrote again…" Kyogai uttered, staring at the pages on the ground. His next words were tinted with rage, coming out as a rush of emotion. "It was all because of him? Master – no, _Kibutsuji_ did that?"

Revan swore loudly, drawing his blade, ready to re-engage with the Gift that would soon reactivate once it registered the act of saying the demon progenitor's name –

Nothing happened. Kyogai's expression of horror morphed into one of utter shock, when after several seconds, still nothing happened.

Was it a Gift, like many of Revan's own traps? Or did it need time to regenerate its Ichor? Could it even regenerate?

"I didn't die," Kyogai said uncomprehendingly. "I said his name, but… I didn't die…" Then, he whirled toward Revan, staring at him with a paradoxical mix of emotions. "Who _are _you?"

This was to be a crossroads, Revan knew. His next actions would determine where he went on from here.

Should he lie? Could he conceal just what he was and where he came from? Could he kill Kyogai himself, now that he knew that blood beads were a suitable alternative for human blood?

Should he not reveal anything further beyond what he already had? Kyogai knew he was no demon, but rather a Revenant, and beyond the abilities he had demonstrated in saving his life he would remain an enigma to the demon.

Should he tell the full truth? Kyogai had been betrayed by his master, and frankly speaking Revan pitied the man for his past. His killing of an untold number of humans could not easily be forgiven – perhaps would never be – but there was always a chance for redemption. For the cycle of hatred to end, it first had to be disrupted.

Hell, if he ever wanted to continue Louis legacy – no, not legacy, he wasn't proven to be dead yet – if he wanted to continue his _mission_, he would be hard-pressed to find a single demon that hadn't killed a human, unless he miraculously found one still in the midst of transforming.

Looking at Kyogai now, his entire body bloodied, his eyes simultaneously determined and yet lost, Revan knew he only had one option.

Still, this wasn't his decision alone.

'_Cruz?'_

'_Do you even need to ask? I used to be the Queen, you know,' _she scoffed, her words filled with plenty of self-hatred. _'If he resolves to stop killing humans, you already know my answer.'_

The silence had stretched on for a little too long. Revan made to answer.

"Before I answer that, I have a question of my own to ask you, Kyogai," he said, studying the demon closely. "You know that Kibutsuji Muzan has betrayed you from the very start. Where do you want to go from here?"

"I…" he said hesitantly. "I don't know…"

"You can join me." Kyogai stared at him, and Revan could see the plain distrust in his eyes. He couldn't blame him, after learning that his master had never seen him as anything more than a tool.

"There are things I have to do," Revan continued saying. "I'm finding some friends of mine. Along the way, I want to find a way to help demons like you, and provide an alternative to human blood." He gestured pointedly at the empty blood bead on the ground. "So long as you don't kill any more humans, you're welcome to join me, if you like."

"And if I don't?" he challenged.

Now that was harder to answer. "If you continue hunting and killing humans, I have no choice but to kill you." Kyogai stiffened slightly at that, but otherwise showed no reaction. "If you don't, I will leave you with a few blood beads to help stem the bloodlust. It won't be a permanent solution, but I will be happy to provide you with more so long as you stop killing humans."

For a few moments, Kyogai was silent. Finally, he spoke.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I told you I'm a _Revenant, _earlier. Part of that means that I can't die –"

"You _what?!"_

"Or rather, I am reborn after I die," he corrected himself. Then, he loosened his posture, allowing his sword to fall to the ground, folding his arms behind his head. "I fight, I die, I am reborn, and I fight again. That is the Revenant's fate."

He looked not at Kyogai, staring blankly into the wall behind him. "To be honest with you, I'm tired of it all," he admitted, something he and all his companions all understood but never openly acknowledged. "I've seen pointless fighting. I've died hundreds, thousands of times. With each death, I lose a portion of my memories – mostly inconsequential, sometimes not – and I'm _tired of it."_

He thought back to Louis' dream of a lasting solution for Revenants, and the conviction he held. "If there's a chance that I can put an end to this pointless bloodshed – this 'futile cycle', as you've described it yourself – then I'll fight for it."

Kyogai stared at him, searching for any sign of deceit. Revan waited patiently.

"You really believe that?"

"I do," he said, nodding resolutely. "These blood beads won't be enough for all demons, I know. One of my goals is to find more mistle and create more of them as I search for my friends."

"Mistle?"

"I'll explain that to you only if you agree to join me," Revan waved him off, then looked at him impassively. "Well?"

"I…" he looked around the room, seemingly undecided, but within a matter of seconds regained his composure. "I won't stand for being treated as a tool –"

"Trust me, you won't," Revan interrupted. "I could really use a brain like yours. If there's something you want done, so long as it doesn't involve killing humans, we can accommodate that in our plans."

Kyogai seemed to have latched on to only a particular sentence Revan spoke. "My _brain_?"

"You've clearly got an apt for academia," Revan said, pointing at the papers all around them both. "And from what I understand, in fields as diverse as metallurgy and haematology. Hell, judging by the title of your essay in the memory, you seemed to have combined philosophy, natural sciences and, uhh…"

'_Sociology_,' Cruz prompted.

"…sociology together." Kyogai was paying utmost attention to him, staring unblinkingly at him with those bloodshot eyes that had no pupils. "You've got a calm and tactical mind as well, based on what I saw in your first attempts to disorientate me. The only real mistake you made was losing your composure and starting to drum too fast."

"Too fast? What do you mean?"

"The acceleration takes time before maximum angular velocity is reached," he said simply. "Even when the room fully rotates, by negating it immediately with another rotation –"

"Gravity," Kyogai realised, eyes wide. "Gravity, and inertia. My tsuzumi… I thought that playing them faster would disorientate you more, but in fact…"

He didn't need to finish his sentence. They both understood.

"You saw through all _that_ in a matter of seconds?!"

"I've had plenty of experience." He shrugged. "I told you, I have died a _lot_ of times." He waved the matter aside. "Anyway, my offer?"

"I… I'll join you," Kyogai finally acquiesced.

_Excellent. _

"Very well," he said, tossing him another blood bead. Ten left. "Take your time with that; eat only to quench the bloodthirst, at least until I find a more stable supply."

Kyogai accepted it, staring at it for a moment, before putting it aside. Revan nodded, then moved to sit, gesturing for Kyogai to do the same.

"For now, though, sit down. We have plenty of information to share with each other, I think."

-o-o-o-

"You're a Revenant, from a place called Vein," Kyogai summarised, as he paced around the room, deep in thought. "You've been asleep for more than a thousand years, but all your past companions have left Vein some time back."

Revan hadn't revealed everything, just in case Kyogai planned to betray him, although he doubted the demon would. There was also the chance that Muzan had a way to procure information, in which case there were a certain level of secrets he had to keep hidden.

First and foremost, was how Revenants could truly be killed. He was a little of a special case, since he would be reborn even when his heart was destroyed thanks to the Queen's relics within his body, but there was always a chance that someone could find a way to counteract its effects.

Then, there was also his past. He had skimmed over just about everything that had occurred within Vein, merely telling Kyogai that Revenants had existed there for a long time, and he had gone to a long sleep and only just woke up.

Thus, what Kyogai knew could be summarised as being only a bare minimum of concrete information. He was a Revenant, searching for his friends.

He offered freely the details of how Gifts and Blood Demon Arts related, since it wasn't really too important in the grand scheme of things. Besides, if it turned out that Kyogai could use more Gifts or find ways to enhance his present ones, it would only be beneficial to them both.

Mistle was something else he had to reveal, if he planned to obtain more blood beads. He had explained them as being a rare plant that reacted to blood of a Revenant, spawning blood beads to help sate their hunger. It was both accurate, and completely off the mark, but it was functionally sufficient for Kyogai to understand just why it was they needed to know more about mistle.

In turn, he had learned a great deal about demons. They were led by one Kibutsuji Muzan, who in turn had twelve notable demons that stood above all the others. Kyogai had once been the Lower Moon Six, the lowest position of all of them, but had been forcibly stripped of that title when he proved unable to gain further strength from consuming the blood of humans.

He had also learned more of just how frighteningly durable demons could be. Even split into a dozen different pieces, the lowest of demons could still regenerate his body together given sufficient time. As far as Revan knew, they only had three weaknesses – sunlight, a Nichirin Blade, and extract from the Wisteria flower. He had already learnt of the former two from the Vestiges he had come across, but to know that they instinctively feared the sun was interesting in itself.

A programmed biological phobia? He didn't know what it _was_ in blood that transformed demons, but BOR parasites made damn sure that their Revenant hosts knew to keep their hearts protected. Was this the same phenomenon here?

"But how do you plan to track down your companions?" Kyogai asked suddenly, pausing in his pacing. "You don't even know at what point in time they left Vein. They might not even be in Japan, now. Hell, they might not even be alive –"

"They are," Revan interrupted curtly, daring his new questionable ally to argue. "I'm sure of it."

Kyogai looked as though he still highly doubted that was the case, but brushed that matter aside, homing into the major point of difficulty that still troubled Revan. "But _how_ do you plan to find them? Searching for them is like – well, searching for a needle in a haystack, in a haystack, in yet another haystack."

Damn it, yes, he understood that well; _painfully _well. Even if they'd only left Vein a year ago, he could search for decades and still find no trace of them. Without even so much as a reference point for exactly when the Mist had fallen, there was really no way of knowing where they could be at present.

He only had one hope.

"Vestiges." The single word made Kyogai stop in his tirade.

"Those are those memory things you mentioned, right? You Revenants – and us demons as well, apparently – occasionally leave small fragments of memory behind at times of major trauma, be it emotional or physical?"

"Yeah." Revan nodded. "I've already taken to tracking a few demons from the Vestiges they've had behind. If as you say, that demons cannot _see _these Vestiges, then it stands to reason that any of them that formed in the past would still be present today. If I can find Vestiges from my friends, or those of other Revenants, I'll have a shot at locating them."

It had been a crude plan, devised by both Cruz and himself over the past month. They had tried searching as much as they could, in haunts that they thought Revenants might hide, but had never even come across a trace of one.

Why, though? Surely some of Vein had to have left at least _one? _Their population had numbered in the thousands, if not tens of thousands, and if Vein had been situated within present-day Japan they should have been able to find at least one.

…all in all, it made an already dubious plan seem even less likely to succeed.

"It's worth a shot…" Kyogai mused, but then seemed to come to a realisation at something shortly after. "Wait. If you Revenants need blood to survive or you become these _'_Lost'…"

"We can survive on blood beads," he replied off-handedly, pointing at the bead Kyogai had safely tucked away. "They wouldn't eat human –"

Revan saw just what Kyogai had noticed, and he stiffened immediately, looking at the demon sharply as his mind whirled with thoughts.

_Fuck._

The mistle had been dried up in his Crypt. As far as he knew, the _entirely _of the network of bloodveins had been disrupted. He may have kept them running while the Mist had still been up, but Cruz had said that he had stopped maintaining them once he dropped the Mist…

…they would have had to feed on human blood, or they would starve to death.

"Revan," he said slowly. "If these Revenants of yours had to do so… and accounting for the similarities you've already described… could it be that your kind became the first demons?"

Were Revenants the progenitors of demons?

No, it sounded absurd. Revenants were created by implanting BOR parasites into already dead corpses. Demons were something else entirely. Muzan had been termed the progenitor of demons by Kyogai himself, and there was no evidence to the contrary.

Still, it didn't change the fact that _he had let his friends starve_. He had failed them.

'_You couldn't have known,'_ Cruz argued. '_You weren't even conscious at the time. There's nothing you could have done.'_

He knew what she said made sense, but even then…

He couldn't dwell on this. He had to act on this new information.

Fine. The blood beads might have dried up. What would his friends have done?

_If it's eat or be eaten, I choose to eat._ Jack's words from a time of Operation Queenslayer rang in his ears. Sure, it wasn't even close to the same context, but he couldn't help the traitorous thoughts that they might have hunted down human blood in desperation to survive.

Louis wouldn't have allowed that, though, and the rest were also unlikely to engage in such. They all shared similar visions. They would have set up some system of obtaining a regular supply of blood – donations, perhaps, as Vein had done. Louis would have fervently researched on a way to revitalise the blood springs, or to find an alternative source of nourishment for Revenants. No problem had ever been too great for him before.

Yes, he was sure of it. They wouldn't have eaten humans.

He really owed them a huge apology when next they met.

"What will you do now?" Kyogai asked levelly.

_Mistle. Vestiges. Demons. Demon Slayers. _Simply put, there were too many possible leads to follow, and yet with no guarantee of success. He considered his options.

"Vestiges and mistle are my priorities. If we find any demons willing to accept my – no, _our_ vision along the way, we'll help them."

Besides, if he had more people by his side, perhaps he could get just a bit more information, especially if these demons have lived for an exceptionally long time. They couldn't see Vestiges, but it could at least help with trying to find possible locations where one might be found.

Strangely, Kyogai appeared to be startled by something he'd said. Revan had been about to ask what it was, but Kyogai schooled his expression once more, and followed up with his original topic.

"Where to, then?"

"For now, we'll go with my original plan, before I stumbled upon your house, here. I was going to head north, up into the mountains. Mia might be there," he said, smiling faintly at the optimistic hope of meeting his dear friend once again. "I'm open to any suggestions you might have."

"North, huh?" Kyogai scratched his chin. "A harsh climate, and much more rural than newer cities and towns… there'll be more demons there, and if you say that Revenants are exceptionally sensitive to fresh human blood…"

"There might be Revenants there as well," Revan finished, and Kyogai nodded.

More demons, a higher likelihood of finding someone from Vein, and a likely candidate location for where Mia could have gone. For all that Kyogai has a frankly ridiculous set of Gifts in his ability to manipulate direction and orientation within an enclosed room, his _mind _truly was his sharpest weapon.

Come to think of it…

"How does your gift work outside of a room, anyway?"

"My Blood Demon Art?" Kyogai shrugged. "It's not as effective. I can still make the world rotate relative to someone else who hears my tsuzumi, but the effect lasts only as long as the note does."

…so it was based on _hearing?_ Even if its effects were many-fold more constrained, it was still an exceptional force to be reckoned with on the battlefield.

Hell, none of his Gifts had any effect like that. Revan whistled appreciatively.

"Very nice," he commended.

"You think it's impressive?" Kyogai asked, surprised. "You overcame it even in my own house –"

"You gave me the time to adapt and plan. Most people probably won't do the same, especially if you leave it as a secondary option in the middle of a fight," Revan mused, considering just what he would do with such a gift.

Yes, he could see it now. Go in quick and fast with thrusts and slashes, and hit a note while disengaging. In the duration of momentary loss of their guard, he would use the time to shape a truly potent Gift – _Purging Thorn_, perhaps, or maybe _Draconic Stake. _Even if they reacted quickly enough, they couldn't dodge the attack while in mid-air –

He was dimly aware that Kyogai was staring at him, open-mouthed, with an unreadable expression on his face.

'_You were thinking aloud,' _Cruz explained. '_You tend to do that quite a bit, actually.'_

"You came with up all that after being subjected to it just _once?"_ Kyogai sounded awed, and… well, annoyed. "Just what kind of fights have you been in?!"

"I've been in plenty."

Oh boy, had he been in many battles before. There weren't many feasible means of death that he hadn't yet personally experienced. Bisected, suffocated, poisoned, burnt, frozen, stomped, crushed… he'd experienced them all.

Come to think of it, he hadn't yet drowned –

Oh, wait. There _was_ that one time back in the Howling Pits. Mentally, he corrected his list.

Kyogai shook his head in disbelief, but didn't comment any further.

In the time they had chatted, both his Ichor and his stamina had regenerated. He tidied his Blood Veil slightly, checked that both his weapons and the various pouches on him were secured, and gestured for Kyogai to move.

"Alright, then. We should get moving. If you're coming along, we'll only be able to travel during the night," he said. Then, he glanced over around the room. "You want to take your writing with you?"

"My writing?" Kyogai asked, confused.

"Figured you might want to read some of your old notes or something." He shrugged. "It's going to be a long journey ahead."

"I haven't written or read in…" Kyogai paused, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "A long, _long _time…"

"Start again, then. I'm going to need that brain of yours to help me find some mistle." Three heads were always better than two, after all.

Again, Kyogai looked stunned, but then nodded resolutely, and began collecting his papers, even using his Gift to travel around the house to reach the various stashes he had hidden his writing in. It was extremely bizzare, watching a topless red-eyed demon with drums sticking out of his body, walking around upside-down on the ceiling while retrieving loose sheets of parchment.

Now that he thought about it, there was a more immediate task he needed to tend to. There was no way in hell they wouldn't attract attention in Kyogai's present get-up.

"Forget about going to the mountains. For now, we need to get you a damn cloak to cover up."

* * *

**The buddy cop adventures of a Revenant and a Demon continue next chapter!**


End file.
